


Love Match

by Mondax



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-02-07 06:16:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 173,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21453376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mondax/pseuds/Mondax
Summary: Multi-chapter AU: A series of last minute, happy accidents causes Cosima – an underrated and underachieving professional tennis player, and Delphine – an up-and-coming actress, to cross paths. Intrigued with each other from the get-go, would they be willing to complicate their already busy and accomplished lives with love? You don’t need to get tennis to read this story.
Relationships: Delphine Cormier/Cosima Niehaus
Comments: 695
Kudos: 420





	1. The Prodigy: July 30, 2013

The resolve to never step foot inside an airplane after hanging up the racket gets stronger as Cosima stuffs her carry-on inside the already-tight overhead luggage bin. Her seatmates for this eight-hour flight: a burly, middle-aged man with a sorry excuse for a toupee sitting by the window; and a younger guy probably in his early 20s wearing headphones and resting his chin on the armrest in boredom, both grumble and mumble in German as she makes her way to the middle seat that she managed to book at the last minute.

“You’re lucky that there are still three seats left,” the woman at the airline reservations quipped as she printed their tickets. But lucky is the last thing Cosima feels now as she buckles up while her older seatmate gets comfortable by proceeding to remove his leather shoes and socks. “What would have been lucky is if I drew the longer straw,” she mutters to herself, trying not to think of Sarah - her coach, and Felix - her trainer, on their aisle seats at the back of the plane, probably already downing the mini-bottles of vodka they bought from the duty free shop before they made a mad dash to the boarding gate.

Her disdain about airplanes goes beyond inconsiderate seatmates. While the tremendous amount of travel could take its toll on anyone, the fatigue hits especially harder for someone like her who was never really a big fan of flying. She never really pinpointed why she didn’t like to fly, perhaps it’s the uneasy feeling of lift off that makes her dizzy, and the shakes from turbulence that always jolts her awake no matter how tired she is. But even when Cosima was younger and more adventurous, she always preferred travelling to a tennis tournament by car or by train. Of course, land travel is easier when the tournaments were just held a couple of hours away from her childhood home in Berkeley. But as she progressed through the junior ranks and began to show all the makings of a promising pro, the overseas tournaments and the plane rides became an inescapable part of her life. 

It also doesn’t help that she chose to binge-watch a documentary series about air crash investigations one sleepless night while distracting herself from a recent painful first round loss in the French Open. And unsurprisingly, the memory of a particularly searing episode where everybody suffered from hypoxia before the plane ran out of fuel and crashed on the side of a mountain stubbornly plays in her mind as the plane climbs. At this point, there’s nothing left for her to do but close her eyes in a futile attempt to sleep it off.

Minutes flew by before the fasten seat belt sign dings off and like clockwork, two flight attendants roll a cart of beverage and food on the aisle. They were two rows ahead when she heard them reciting the menu – a classic cuisine that starts with an orange and fennel salad, followed by a grilled beef fillet steak with Pommes Anna, and punctuated by a classic Bavarian cream dessert with raspberry sauce. Cosima watches them intently as they set up the in-flight meals, trying hard to remember the last time she ate a bag of chips. It was that night in college when they won the NCAA Championship Title. There were chips and dip, kegs of beer, and a big fat joint being passed around. It was a great night.

“Too bad I’m stuck with quinoa,” she said to herself when the flight attendants reach her row, earning a curious look from her younger seatmate who she noticed to be intently looking at her as if trying to place where he knows her from. A cheery attendant proceeds to serve her a bottle of water, a salad, her quinoa pasta, and a tofu-based dessert. As she begrudgingly chews her food, she thinks to herself that apart from cutting back on the plane trips once she retires, what would really make her happy is if she never sees another pasta dish in her life ever again. She takes a sip of water after another bite of the tasteless main course, relishing her meal by thinking of all the unhealthy dishes and bottles of wine she will consume once her career ends.

\-----

It took three part-time jobs and a loan from his brother for Philip to have some money to buy an economy ticket to Montreal from Frankfurt so he can finally visit Anna, his girlfriend, who moved to Canada to attend university a year ago. He was excited and looking forward to the trip all day long, but one look at the man by the window seat – who was loudly blowing his nose on an already-moist handkerchief - was all it took for him to fervently hope that the seat next to him would remain empty for the duration of the flight. As it is, the row is already tight enough for two people and it would be awesome to have considerable distance and the additional legroom for the long trip.

His silent wish seems to be coming true as the plane gets filled with passengers. He looks at the time on his watch – five minutes before take-off - before noticing that all the seats in the surrounding rows were occupied. He smiles on the inside as he fished for his headphones and plugged it to his iPod touch (a New Year’s gift from his girlfriend). The second song on the playlist was about to end when three passengers boarded the plane, huffing and puffing as they make their way to their seats. He was about to breathe a sigh of relief when the first two late passengers quickly walked past his row, but the shorter woman behind them stops to open the luggage bin directly above him and shove her things inside. He couldn’t help the complaints from slipping out of his mouth when the woman began squeezing her way to the middle seat next to him.

After a few subtle looks to her unwanted seatmate, Philip was convinced that although she seems odd (she tends to mumble to herself without even noticing it), she’s rather harmless and has very good hygiene to boot. He couldn’t help feeling a slight sense of schadenfreude when he saw the man by the window wiggling his toes after taking off his shoes and socks. “Better you than me,” he laughs to himself.

The woman beside him is fidgety and is mostly quiet until she said something when the meals were being rolled out. He didn’t quite catch her words but it made him look directly at her. He thought she looks familiar – someone who seems popular for something. He eats his salad while still trying to figure out who this person is. Judging from the way she speaks, she’s American - definitely not a movie star though she has the face and body for it. Before digging in to his steak, he gets his iPod from the front pocket where he stowed it and connects to the expensive on-board Wi-Fi he was saving for a game he wants to play and for chatting with Anna once she’s awake.

A quick Google search for _‘American female athlete + dreadlocks’ _reveals the answer to his question – he is sitting next to Cosima Niehaus, a tennis player currently ranked #23 in the world. He remembers her from a second round Wimbledon match that him and his tennis-loving mother watched a couple of years ago when she looked to upset Serena Williams after winning the first set 6-3. “I have money on her,” he remembered his mother confessing, looking forward to her long shot victory which would yield a 520 Euro payout for a measly 10 Euro bet. She lost the next two sets in lopsided fashion though at 2-6, 1-6, even receiving treatment for a strained calf before the start of the third set. “Backpfeifengesicht,” Philip remembers his mother saying as she turned off the TV, though he’s not quite sure who the insult is being directed to. 

Taking quick glances to his side and making sure she doesn’t notice him reading about her, he opens her Wikipedia page out of curiosity. A quick scan shows that she seems to be doing quite well this year – she’s won three small tournaments in Europe, with the most recent one on clay in Budapest. She even won her first ever career title in Nürnberg (two hours away from where he lives in Rosbach) against a popular and telegenic German tennis player who was a two-time Grand Slam quarterfinalist. He opened a link to a short article about her after winning against the German where she was asked about what changed from last year when she ended the year barely in the Top 50.

“_I don’t know,_” _the ever-affable Niehaus – once hailed as the next great American Tennis hope – mused. “I guess it’s all coming together at the right time. I have good people behind me: a coach who gets me and a physio who’s not out to kill me in training. And it’s nice...just last year I couldn’t string a couple of wins together...”_ The ESPN article said, focusing on her recent win and only making a passing mention of her disappointing early losses in the bigger tournaments this year – first round losses in both the Australian Open and French Open, and a second round exit in Wimbledon.

Further down the search results, Philip clicked on a tennis forum page rife with all sorts of opinions about Cosima Niehaus. “_She has an intelligent, counter-punching game,_” one poster (who’s clearly a fan) said, “_which is refreshing given the amount of ball-bashers we have now._” “_She’s hot ;),_” said one commenter who needed three paragraphs to explain how her dreadlocks (among her other assets) beautifully bounce as she runs around the court to return a shot. But unlike the effusive article, the compliments in the forum page are outnumbered by the scoffs – “_She’ll always be a mental midget,_” one said. “_Overrated...if she wasn’t American, we wouldn’t be talking about her,_” another said. “_Choke machine,_” a post said complete with a vomiting emoji.

A bit appalled by the words he has read, Philip didn’t bother checking the second page of the Cosima Niehaus forum topic. Just then, the flight attendant comes back to busk away the empty food containers. From the corner of his eye, he can see Cosima eating her tofu pudding dessert. And perhaps it was pity, but as he eyes his own dessert - a sweet raspberry treat - he offered it to her seatmate, who looks surprised by the gesture.

“No, thank you,” she said with a polite grin. “It seems yummy though.” 

He smiles, all earlier sense of schadenfreude now gone, and as he eats his dessert he wonders how she – or anybody for that matter - can put up with the added pressure of playing a professional sport on top of the demands and responsibilities of everyday life. He was halfway into eating his dessert when Cosima’s shoulder unintentionally nudges him because their other seatmate kept shifting in his seat. Before she can even say sorry, Philip stands up with his dessert in hand.

“Would you take the aisle seat?” He asked - a little conscious of his accent and his English.

“Ahh, dude, are you sure? Because that would be awesome,” Cosima answered. By then, he began to understand the glowing words he just read about her. “She’s very charming,” one comment said, and he can’t help but agree. He nods at her then lifted his tray table as Cosima stands up from her seat to join him in the aisle. She looked grateful as he scoots to the middle seat and she takes his original seat.

“It’s the least I can do,” Philip thinks to himself, “God knows you already have a ton of stuff to deal with.”

\-----

The need to pee strikes Cosima barely a couple of hours into the flight. She’s been in the public eye long enough to know that her younger seatmate probably realized who she is and read about her, before respectfully offering her his seat.

“Thank you, Rachel,” she mused to herself as she stands up with ease to make her way to the nearest toilet located seven or eight rows ahead. She hasn’t won a lot of tournaments and barely makes a dent in Grand Slam events, but her agent – Rachel Duncan, has been doing a great job at selling her and making her visible.

“You are my cross to bear,” she once said to Cosima when they first met. And it’s a warranted remark given the caliber of the other athletes she represents.

“I consider the fact that you're making money while playing shoddy tennis as one of my greatest achievements. It makes me feel good about myself – that I’m able to sell a defective product,” she remembers Rachel dryly saying to her in their last meeting during this year’s Wimbledon after she lost in the second round to Li Na in three sets. In spite of the loss, somehow Rachel still got an endorsement deal for her from a small jewelry company. Rachel’s acerbic remarks swim in her cabin-pressurized mind while she waits by the still-occupied lavatory, but her thoughts were interrupted when somebody taps her on her elbow.

“Can I get your autograph?” A girl in pigtails no older than 13 years old nervously asks her in heavily-accented English.

“Sure,” she said a bit surprised as the girl hands her a small piece of paper – a napkin bearing the airline’s logo. A middle-aged woman behind the girl, who Cosima assumes to be the child’s mother, enthusiastically hands her a blue pen from her handbag. “I’m surprised you even know who I am,” she remarks as she uses the lavatory’s door as a makeshift table. “Who do I make this out to?”

“Judith,” she replies. “And of course I know who you are,” the girl said. “You just won the Budapest Grand Prix...”

“We were watching it on the television,” the older woman supplied. “You’re her second favorite tennis player – but you’re her favorite American tennis player,” and at those words, Judith nods enthusiastically.

Cosima smiles at that sentiment. She tries her best to be genuinely touched when it’s a kid asking for an autograph. “I don’t think that’s a wise choice,” she self-deprecates, “you can’t go wrong with Serena or Venus...”

“But she likes your style of play the most,” Judith’s mother explains as she hands the napkin back to the child. “She’s been trying to copy how you play when she’s in her tennis academy.”

“So you play?” Cosima turns her attention to Judith who still has a star-struck smile on her face as she nods. “Are you a leftie? I’ve always wanted to be a leftie.”

“She is,” her mom answers as she reaches in to her pockets. “Her coach tells us that she’s a prodigy – just like you.” A phone emerges from the woman’s pocket, “can we get a photo of you with her?” And Cosima nods as she stands next to Judith and puts an arm around the little girl’s shoulder with a ready smile. The lavatory door finally clicks open and Cosima excuses herself from the mother-daughter duo before entering the enclosed space.

“Prodigy,” she muttered underneath her breath as she relieves herself. The word never sat well with her, no matter how much people threw it around her way when she was growing up. She considers herself lucky that unlike most tennis parents, her Mom and Dad never shoved tennis down her throat. In fact, they did the opposite – they made sure that she develops a slew of interests outside the sport in their adamant belief that it will do wonders not only for her future as a tennis player but also for life after and outside tennis.

She washes her hands and stands by the sink for a bit, hoping that Judith and her mom are gone by the time she makes her way back to her row. Thankfully, they were nowhere in sight when she emerges from the lavatory.

As she gets comfortable in her seat, she scans the in-flight entertainment options available to her. There is still a good six hours of flying before they land in Montreal so she’s looking for a documentary or a TV series that would lull her to sleep. She landed on a Canadian-German TV series called _Totentanz_ – a World War 2 show about a group of Allied spies that has silently and clandestinely infiltrated Nazi Germany.

“Sounds like a doozy,” she sarcastically remarks as she starts watching the first episode with a yawn. It turned out to be an unexpected gem and it only took less than 30 minutes for her to get hooked with the show’s gripping story and whip-smart dialog. As the action unfolds, she finds her eyes gravitating towards the female lead – Johanna – the blonde, de facto leader of a ragtag group of spies.

Cosima curls up in her blanket, spending the rest of the flight rewinding scene after scene where Johanna is the focal point, and consuming one Totentanz episode after another after another. She was knee-deep in Episode 7 when the plane touched down, begrudgingly removing the earphones when the cabin doors opened to let them out.


	2. The Rising Star: July 31, 2013

“Thank you for taking the time for this interview, I know that you’re very busy filming now for the second season,” entertainment reporter Monty Rivero said to Delphine Cormier who plays Johanna in the buzzy television series Totentanz. “Did you know that you have a hit in your hands when you first signed up for the show?”

Delphine gives Monty a shy smile - meant to disarm and enchant the interviewer which would buy her time to give a different answer to the question that has been thrown her way countless of times since the show premiered. To be honest, Delphine auditioned and signed up for the show against her agent’s advise not because she thought it would be a hit but because of the strong female character she will get to play – a departure from the female romantic lead and damsel in distress roles she usually gets. She has no complaints though - the memory of her struggling years fresh out of acting school is still quite recent - but she’d like to believe that she has the talent and dedication for meatier and more complex roles.

“I wanted it to be a hit,” she chose to say with charm that can only come from sincere honesty. “Because that way, more people would know about this particular part of history – how important the roles that women like Johanna played during the war. And to me, that’s more important than ratings. It’s an honor to be part of this show...to be able to cast the spotlight to the countless of women and men who risked their lives fighting for what they believe is right.”

Monty nods and smiles. In a career spanning almost two decades, he has met and spoke with his fair share of stars, and he would like to believe that over the years he has developed a very accurate and fine-tuned bullshit meter. He relishes the one-on-one with Ms. Cormier now as she talks about her experiences while filming key scenes in Prague. In Monty’s opinion, this girl is the real deal – articulate, charming, wickedly talented, and ethereally beautiful. He wouldn’t fly from L.A. to Montreal just to interview her if he didn’t believe she’d be a huge star in one or two years’ time. And when that happens, who knows when he’s going to get an exclusive interview with the willowy blonde.

“Can you tell me what’s in store for you?” Monty follows-up. “I mean as much as we love seeing you kick ass in the small screen and grace the premieres of your films in festivals, I know that we’ll see more of you in other, more mainstream projects.”

Delphine runs a hand through her hair, a nervous tick she developed as a child when a teacher called her to recite in front of the class and she’s not quite sure how to answer. “There are a couple of exciting projects in the offing,” she said choosing to play coy. “I am doing an off-Broadway play for a few weeks this August after we finish filming the second season.” In truth, Delphine is more excited about the play – directed and written by an old friend from conservatory school - more than starring in a big budget film that Aldous, her agent, salivated over for months. “It’s going to make us big,” he said then and she agreed, though she’s unsure whether she shares the same sentiment. 

“You’re going to be starring in a much-anticipated superhero film shooting right here in Montreal,” Monty asked, casting aside Delphine’s quip about the play, “tell me the experience of sharing the limelight with already-established Hollywood stars?”

“I brought them to a local pub one night and we all either got drunk on absinthe foghorns or high in shrooms...then we showed up the next day hungover and still a bit high, which was great for the blooper reel,” Delphine was tempted to say just to rile up Aldous and give him something to clean and worry about. She smiles at the temptation but she bites her tongue, which earned a quizzical if a little mesmerized look from Monty.

“We just finished filming a couple of days ago and it’s great actually,” she backtracks, “it was the first time for me to get into a film with more than five million in budget so everything is new and bigger. The entire cast is very supportive of each other,” and Delphine smiles because it’s partially true – one of the lead actors made sure everybody got home safe that night, asking his chauffeur to ferry off drunk cast mates after another while he hits on the bartender who he ultimately went home with and bedded. It seems harmless, a fling between the movie star and the pretty girl - if only he didn’t have a wife and a newborn child back at home.

The interview ends after a few more exchanges about the film and what’s in store for Totentanz’s next season. Delphine gives him friendly and polite kisses on his cheeks, ensuring that he remains enchanted as he writes the article and releases the interview video. Aldous would be happy with the end result, she thinks, and he would back off a little about the play he advised against which would be a welcome development. As Monty finds his way out, she makes her way back on set. Her agent, as she expected, is already waiting for her in the studio’s hallway.

“That went well,” he remarks, pleased that his prized client is sticking to the script and adding an extra dose of charm along the way. The way he speaks with his low, breathy voice, and the way he looks with eyes that seems to be built to leer, may seem creepy - even a tad bit predatory - to most, but Delphine is already used to her agent’s mannerisms by this time and it’s easier to disregard them by now. “He wanted to ask about your personal life,” he then said as they walked back to the Totentanz set. “I don’t think it’s wise not to talk about it, publicity is publicity after all.”

For some time now, Aldous has been egging Delphine to open up a little about her relationship with Martial – a promising, handsome young director whose latest project will premier in the TIFF next month and who already has a couple of critically-loved art house films under his belt. She has been adamant about not talking about it though, not only to keep things private but also because she didn’t want the added weight of public opinion in her relationship. As far as she is concerned, she doesn’t need to spell it out to anybody - they’ve been photographed together on red carpets, and they’ve been seen emerging from restaurants or from her townhouse here in Montreal holding hands.

And if she’s really being honest, she didn’t want to discuss it because she doesn’t really know how to describe it; because behind the air of mystery is the ordinary reality that the relationship looks more serious than what it really is – a two-year, on-and-off affair that is convenient when it’s on and easy to brush off when they are on a break. She doesn’t want to talk about her and Martial with Monty or any other entertainment journalist because she isn’t really sure if they’re on or off now.

Which is why she rolled her eyes at Aldous’ suggestion – like most people, he has a general idea of the relationship but isn’t privy to the intricate details of it. She wants nothing more but to keep it that way. “It is what it is,” she dryly remarked and her agent can only offer a half-hearted smirk at her words. They finally reach the set which perks up Delphine because this means that Aldous would be on his way back to his office – his duty to keep close tabs on her and the interview have been fulfilled.

“Welcome back,” Lisa – one of the show’s producer said, “that was quite quick.”

Delphine smiles at her as she took off the coat she used to hide her wardrobe for the scenes they are shooting all day. The hours in making Totentanz are long and demanding but Lisa, the other producers, directors, writers, and her cast mates make the process easier to bear. It’s a happy crew, as if everybody silently agreed to check their egos by the door before starting every work day. Pretty soon, Wallis - one of her co-stars: a beefy, interesting-looking man with black wavy hair - is putting an arm around her while holding a cup of coffee with another hand.

“A lot of things happened while you were away, Cormier,” he said with a wink and although Delphine looks on with interest and curiosity, Aldous has an eyebrow raised, suspicious that some key Johanna screen time had been cut while they were out of the set for the interview.

“This involves you too, Aldous, so stay for a bit,” Lisa said as they enter the war room set which acts as a de facto conference room for the show when producers or directors have an important announcement to say to the cast and crew. Delphine takes the nearest available seat next to Wallis as her other co-stars wave and smile at her. Aldous stands behind Delphine, as if gauging the room and figuring what is up.

“We have a couple of things to talk about,” Lisa said. “First, we have to have an extra week of filming,” and almost everybody in the room groans. “I know, I know,” she said in an effort to appease everybody, “but a bunch of scenes had to be re-written because it didn’t sit well with the people upstairs. So I’m sorry but you have to re-schedule your trips as early as now.”

Unlike her other cast mates, Delphine was not that affected by the additional work days – although she does have to re-schedule a short vacation she and Martial planned before she goes to New York for the play. It’s inconvenient to cancel the trip, but she figured it would be more inconvenient to spend a week with him, given how things ended the last time they spoke. Maybe the considerable distance will be best for now - absence making the heart grow fonder or something along those lines, she guesses. She can’t wait to have some time alone in her hometown anyway - to visit her mom, hang out with her friends, and internalize her upcoming role.

“The good news is that it’s only a bunch of scenes, so the workload wouldn’t be that heavy and the hours won’t be that long, which brings us to the next topic...” Lisa continued capturing the room’s attention once again. “The network is hosting a charity event with Tennis Canada for the benefit of Autism Canada in two days. They asked one of you,” and she directs her gaze to her cast, “to hit a few balls and play doubles with a tennis player from the WTA who would be here in town this week competing in the Rogers Cup. Now, while you were away Delphine the boys have proceeded to draw lots. Wallis picked for you, and you’re it.”

This is where Delphine groans in disbelief while Wallis snickers and says a not so sorry “Sorry love.” The other cast members clap cartoonishly and Delphine being a good sport laps up the good-natured ribbing. By now, they’ve all gotten close for them to know that she is far from athletic and that the only sport she religiously follows is ice hockey. She did play tennis in school when she was younger, and she sucked at it – vividly remembering that in her mediocrity, a wayward tennis ball had hit her in the head resulting to a nasty black eye that she sported for a week.

“You’d be representing Totentanz and the network in the event - granted that Aldous wouldn’t have a problem with that. It’ll be at the Stade Uniprix and it’ll be quick,” Lisa addresses Aldous. “Done in two hours, which means an early out in the studio and a rare free night for you,” she said with finality even before Delphine can dissent.

Aldous could barely contain the grin on his face. Yes, publicity is publicity, but this – a charity event for a good cause where Delphine will wear a tennis kit that would accentuate her long, smooth legs and sexy figure – is the best kind. He can already see the press kits and social media posts about it. “I have no problems with that,” he said, to Delphine’s irritation.

“Great,” Lisa said in a tone that goes against what she just said, “I’ll send you the details and the WTA’s PR person in charge of the event.”

“But I don’t know a thing about tennis, much more how to actually play a game,” she said, finally able to voice out her objection.

“That’s what the pro is for,” Greg – another co-star, said. “All you have to do is stand there, wave, banter, hold a racket, pretend you know what you’re doing, and be a good sport.” And Delphine huffs, wishing she can smoke a cigarette right now. But if she’s going to be running on a tennis court in two days time, the cigarettes would sadly have to wait.

“Christ!” Albert, her middle-aged cast mate who plays their commanding officer, chimed in. “If you end up playing with Sharapova or Ivanovic, I swear I’m going to kill Wallis.”

“Who is she playing with if I may ask?” Aldous asks Lisa in an all-business manner, already dead-set to ask his assistant to run a background check on the player who will share the court with his star client as soon as he gets back to his desk.

“Let me see,” Lisa answered as she shuffles from one piece of paper after another among the stack of documents in front of her. “I have the name somewhere...yes, here,” and Lisa wears the reading glasses hanging around her neck. “A young American tennis player named...Madison Keys. She’s a rising star like you,” she added, “and she claims to love the show. Should be a fun afternoon right? It’s for a good cause.”

“I’m on it,” Aldous said before tapping Delphine on the shoulder as he prepares to leave. “I’ll send you what I can gather about her via e-mail,” he added to Delphine before giving a curt nod to Lisa and leaving the war room.

“Alright, that’s all for now, thank you and see you all here in an hour,” Lisa said as she stood up. Most of the crew members follow suit, leaving the cast alone in the room.

“So who is it really?” Delphine asks in a voice trying to be mad but betrayed by a smile that formed on her lips. As she waits for a reply, she eyes each cast mate who in a span of less than a year have grown to become the closest thing she has to brothers. She can see Wallis trying to come up with a wisecrack while Albert shows Greg a picture of Ana Ivanovic as she hoists the Coupe Suzanne-Lenglen when she won her first grand slam on the clay courts of Paris in 2008.

“It was suppose to be me,” Pete who was sitting at the far end of the war room comes clean with a raised hand and an apologetic look on his face. “I got the marked paper but I get Paige from my ex that day and I’ve already asked to be let out early so I can spend the rest of the day with her. Sorry, Del...”

Had it been Wallis or Albert or Greg, Delphine would have been peeved about the tennis thing. But it was Pete –Pete who has a picture of his daughter’s kindergarten graduation as his phone wallpaper; Pete who’s been trying to get his life back together since the costly and life-altering divorce; Pete who always tells her to slow down a little, to pick projects that she’s really passionate about, to nut burn out.

“You owe me,” Delphine quips and Pete nods while silently mouthing a thank you to her. She stands up to go to her dressing room as the rest of the guys pepper her with ideas about humiliating favors she can ask from Pete in return for taking one for the team. The tennis event is for a good cause after all and it would be good for the show - she thinks that those are enough motivations for her to deal with two hours of humiliation.


	3. Happy Accidents: August 1, 2013, Two Days before Rogers Cup

Media Day during big but non-Slam tournaments is something that Cosima and her team aren’t bothered with because they’re not really asked to participate in it. They like it that way – more players in the press room being asked to talk non-stop about their game and what they’re up to means more available practice courts for them and less scouting reports about Cosima’s game and strategy. Today they got really lucky - the show court where the American is scheduled to compete in two days against a dangerous, ball-bashing Estonian is available for an hour of hitting practice. Practicing there would give her a feel of the court and her game - how fast or slow the ball bounces on the hard surface, how it feels to run and move on the court, and how fast her shots and strokes would be, among many other intangibles.

Sarah knows that more than any other player, Cosima needs to be able to feel her shots. The smallest disconnect between feeling it and not can easily affect the outcome of a match – if she feels her game, she would be able to adjust to her opponent and map out the most effective ball placements and shots. Cosima relies on the intangibles: feel, heart, instinct, and court sense, because she is small for a tennis player – generously listed as five feet six in official WTA records. While having room for both tall and short players is one of the beauties of the sport, the height disadvantage prevents her from possessing a booming serve or an array of powerful shots that can bail her out of trouble.

But what the dreadlocked American lacks in height and power she makes up for with speed and mesmerizing footwork, thanks to years of playing football at the urging of her parents. She is a classic counterpuncher, working with what she have by biding her time on the baseline to retrieve balls, patiently waiting to hit a shot that can open up the court resulting to opponents missing the lines in frustration or misreading the direction of her returns after several rallies. When it works, it’s beautiful, but when it doesn’t she ends up worn out and injured. Sarah is Cosima’s first line of defense in making sure that her game works.

“Why are we doing this again?” A frustrated Cosima asks her coach who is lobbing balls her way as they practice drop shots and net volleys.

“Because your net game is absolute bollocks,” Sarah replied and Felix agrees in the background. Cosima rolls her eyes as she chases a low volley that clipped the net but still went over her side of the court. “Look, I’m not trying to change the way you play,” her coach adds with exasperation that can only come from repeatedly saying the same sentiment for months now. “I’m just trying to give you the tools to play around the foreground – just in case you’d need it.” Ever since Cosima started stringing wins this year, Sarah has been working on introducing variations to her game, and with other players and coaches taking notice of her wins and studying her patterns, she knows that making the American’s game unpredictable and harder to read is a must.

“So you wouldn’t look like a wanker when you’re coming to the net,” Felix belatedly screams from the bleachers where he’s observing the practice session.

Her passive returning game may look beautiful to tennis purists who lament how the power game has ridden the sport of its innate balletic finesse, but Sarah knows that Cosima’s tendency to hang out in the baseline makes her vulnerable to big hitters who can easily blast her out of the court. She knows it firsthand - beating her in their only meeting, a quarterfinal match in the Wimbledon Juniors Tournament way back in 2004. Cosima, the 16-year-old American Tennis Prodigy, was the favorite to win against a nobody from London, yet Sarah managed to reel in the tight 7-6, 7-5 victory by being able to guess that her opponent would remain in the baseline, which gave her the chance to attack the net and time unreturnable drop shots and blistering down-the-line winners to perfection. She went on to capture the junior’s title – the picture of her with the trophy was about the last time she wore an all-white ensemble.

Oddly enough, that’s how they became friends. Fresh from the sting of the unexpected loss, the inquisitive American swallowed her pride and approached Sarah in the locker room to ask her what she can do to improve. She was expecting snark – the Brit has a reputation for being a hot-tempered bitch (she once defaulted a match after repeatedly calling the umpire a putrid ball bag). Instead she got a passionate point-by-point breakdown of what went wrong: “Your second serve is shite - it's a fucking puffball that begs to be punished,” Sarah said as she takes off her shoes. “You're so in love with the bloody baseline all I really have to do is lull you in with long rallies then kill you with a drop shot,” she screamed from the next cubicle as she showered. “You have a lights-out crosscourt shot with unreal angles - it sucks that you don't use it enough to change the direction of the rally,” she later remarked as she packed her things.

Somehow, Sarah's expletive-laced rant resonated with her more than any of her former coaches' various pep talks. They’ve kept in touch ever since, exchanging videos of their matches and acting as each other’s unofficial sounding board. By the time Cosima came back to the grind full time after college, Sarah has already retired from tennis – the burgeoning career had been hampered not by her temperament but by a painful chronic shoulder injury. She was living in Canada, supporting her young daughter Kira by working as a club pro, when she asked her to be her coach. She was reluctant at first, but Siobhan - her foster mother, encouraged her to take the gig. “I know that’s what you want,” she said, promising to hold the fort as she chases her tennis dreams, this time on the sidelines supporting a hardworking and intense tennis player.

“Oi, easy,” Felix suddenly warned when Cosima took a misstep while returning a pointed crosscourt shot when Sarah decided to mix it up. She regains her balance and before he even made his way down to the court armed with a couple of towels and rolls of surgical tape.

“You should really tape your ankles,” he scolds but the American just gave him a quick, dismissive one-hand wave as she stomps her right foot on the hard court to shake off the little niggles of pain brought on by the near miss.

“She doesn’t like it taped,” Sarah says as she restarts a rally with a net volley, “she wants to feel the ground.”

“She’s a nasty ankle injury waiting to happen,” he retorts but concedes as he stows away the tapes in his bag. Being the newest addition to the team, Felix is still getting to know his ward’s kinks and quirks. He joined them just this January, lured away from the men’s tour when Cosima managed to get some endorsement money to hire a full-time physio and trainer for the year. Seeing Sarah’s struggles with injuries inspired Felix, her foster brother, to take up physiotherapy – especially when he found out how much the Lawn Tennis Association was paying the numerous PTs called to tend to Sarah’s problematic shoulder.

The practice session was almost over - Sarah and Cosima are already playfully hitting tweeners while Felix guffaws at their failed attempts when they notice a small camera crew on the sidelines filming them. Just then, Nick – a former amateur tennis player with boyishly handsome looks who now does on-court interviews for the WTA strolls in to the court. He gives Cosima a beaming smile that she returns enthusiastically – they know each other having played college tennis at around the same time. She proceeds to remove her contact lenses in favor of the black-rimmed glasses tucked in her gym bag while Nick explains what he’s doing in her practice session. Sarah looks on suspiciously - in strike contrast to the looks Felix is giving Nick who’s wearing a pair of well-fitting black jeans.

“Hey guys,” Nick says as a production staff hands Cosima a microphone and does a quick sound and video check. “Just here for a quick interview,” he adds. In reality, the dreadlocked American was not scheduled to be filmed for this segment, but Nick missed the higher-ranked and more popular player practicing in the adjacent show court who left early for her pre-tournament press conference. Luckily, he glanced at the other court and saw Cosima practicing volleys. “That would work,” he then said as he walks to where Cosima and her team are. 

“Hi Nick,” Felix replies extending a hand and holding on to the interviewer’s hand a bit longer than necessary. He smiles before letting go to pack up their things and clean up their used towels and empty water bottles. Sarah only nods before relaxing on a chair and getting her phone to text Siobhan and her daughter. Nick asks for silence before the camera starts rolling.

He begins the interview after a thumbs-up from the production staff. “Okay, we welcome Cosima Niehaus, the world number 23 and the number 3-ranked American in today’s edition of 15-Love. We’ll be asking you 15 rapid-fire questions and you have to answer them as fast as you can in a race against the clock. The quicker you answer the better because we’re going to add you to the leader board based on your time. How do you think you’re going to do?”

Cosima fixes her glasses and nods. The familiarity with Nick and her gregarious nature will make the interview faster and hopefully engaging. “It’s hard to answer 15 questions quickly. I hope I don’t ffu...eff up,” she smiles after, capturing the tip of her tongue between her teeth and exposing her eye tooth.

“No eff ups I hope,” Nick banters, “I think you’re going to do great. So here we go, Cosima Niehaus – let’s play 15-Love. How old where you where you when you first started playing tennis?”

“Five and a half,” she replies. Her introduction to tennis was pretty accidental. Her parents, Sally and Gene - both professors in Berkeley - took turns in taking care of Cosima during weekends. One particular weekend, Gene had to play tennis with his colleagues and potential donors who can fund his department’s research trip in South America. It’s his turn to look after his daughter so he brought Cosima along, gave her a racquet and a tube of tennis balls before leaving her on a court where she proceeded to play against the wall. One of the club’s pros saw the young girl and marvelled at her hand-eye coordination. Surprised that this was her first time holding a racquet, he immediately talked to Gene, persuading him to let him coach Cosima for free.

“Where did you win your first professional tennis match?” Nick asks.

Dreadlocks bobbing, Cosima searches her mind for the right response. “In the MPS Championships, in Ponta Vedra, Florida,” she replied. After grinding it out in smaller events months after getting her degree, she was able to qualify into the main draw of that 2010 tournament after stringing some wins in the qualification matches. She defeated three seasoned players in three days and managed to scrape a first round win against a crafty player from the Czech Republic, only to flame out in the second round losing to the #4 seed in lopsided fashion.

“Name two left-handed players,” Nick asked. “Nadal and Petra,” she answers quickly. “If you were an animal, what animal would you be?” “A puppy.” “What’s your favorite ice cream flavor?” “Chocolate.” “How many hours do you sleep at night before a match?” “8 hours?” Her answer came off as a question which amused her and Nick. In reality, she is sometimes too nervous to sleep the night before a big match and the restlessness does wonders for her opponent’s cause.

Several questions followed and she answers as fast as she can, replying the first thing or name that pops to mind. She wouldn’t remember most of her replies even if her life depended on it, but then Nick asked a question that Cosima has a definitive answer that she sure would remember. “What is your favorite TV show?”

“Oh my God,” Cosima says, speaking with her hands more enthusiastically because she thinks she’s letting everybody in on a secret. “There’s this amazing, amazing show that I saw in the plane getting here just a couple of days ago. It’s Totentanz. Watch it and thank me later.” Nick nods enthusiastically, conveying to Cosima and to whoever will watch this interview that yes, Totentanz is the personification of must-watch peak TV.

“What’s your favorite place in the world?” The questioning continues and without skipping a beat, she answers: “my apartment in San Francisco.” And it’s true. She immediately goes home after the season ends around October. She parks herself on the couch as soon as she’s home, wanting to not waste any time for she only has two weeks of chilling before her pre-season training begins. She’ll cozy up with books she’d wanted to read or TV shows that look interesting. And after watching six and a half episodes in the plane, rewatching and finishing the first season of Totentanz has zoomed to the top of her off-season to-do list.

The interview ends and Nick thanks Cosima. When the camera was turned off and the crew leaves, he proceeded to congratulate her about her season. “You guys are on a tear,” he says not only to the tennis player but also to Sarah and Felix, allowing his biases to take over off-cam. “Three titles in less than a month,” and he whistles. “All the best this coming US Open,” he adds as he walks with the Niehaus Team to the stadium grounds.

“Thanks man,” she answers. “I’m hoping that the lower tournament success rubs off on the Slams, you know.”

“It’ll come,” Nick says in encouragement, “and if it doesn’t, you’ll be fine. I’m pretty sure you’re gonna have a heck of a time anyway,” as he gives her one final tug at the elbow before making his way to the press room. “Bye guys,” he said from a distance though his eyes lingered more on Felix than on Sarah or Cosima.

“Remind me again why we don’t like giving interviews?” Felix muses with a twinkle in his eyes when it’s only the three of them as they make their way to a service car waiting to bring them back to the hotel.

“Superstition,” Sarah answers. “Less talk, less mistake that kind of thing. Siobhan and Kira are on their way here by the way,” she adds. Kira’s birthday is in a week and depending on how far they go in Montreal, the team will either be in Cincinnati or New Haven for another tournament by the time Kira turns five. Cosima insisted that since they’re in Canada that she celebrates her birthday with them, clearing tomorrow’s afternoon schedule for a trip to the zoo and an early dinner. “We can hit some balls in the morning,” she said nonchalantly when Sarah tried to refuse her offer by saying that they need the additional practice the day before the match. She will never admit it, but the sentiment warms her heart – the video calls got nothing on actually spending a day with her daughter.

They arrive in the hotel in less than 30 minutes. Cosima, sweaty from the practice, begged off from the late lunch that Felix and Sarah planned on having. She headed for her room, checking her phone as she waits for an elevator when another tennis player, Carla – the girl who defeated her in the first round of this year’s French Open, saw her from the lobby and made her way to where she’s standing.

“Cosima,” she says, “felicidades for Rosmalen,” and gives her congratulatory kisses on both cheeks. The Spaniard is one of the nicest girls on tour - humble and down-to-earth even as a junior - and because they consider each other as clay court specialists, it didn’t come as a surprise to Cosima that Carla would choose to congratulate her for her win on the grasscourts of Netherlands – her second career title. “Told you you’re more than just a clay rat,” she adds.

“Thanks,” Cosima replies, “but I would trade that title for winning over you in Paris.” Carla laughs and nods as the elevator arrives and they enter together. Cosima presses the ‘5’ button before asking her companion “What floor?”

“16th,” she said. It doesn’t come as a surprise to her that the higher-ranked Spaniard would be given a swankier room in the upper floors. She’s even grateful to the tournament for giving a couple of rooms for her and her team, though she does have to share her room with Felix this week. He usually rooms with Sarah but with family coming, Cosima generously offered her coach her own room that she can share with her mom and daughter. 

She gives one more nod and a “see you out there” for good measure which is received with a smile that meant to say good luck. She quickly goes in for a shower once she got in her room and as she runs her hands through her dreads, she tries to remember if they’d seen the tournament draw since it came out. No, they haven’t, she’s sure of it – they’d been so focused on her first round opponent that they haven’t checked who she’s playing against should she win her first match. She lingers under the stream of hot water, silently hoping that Carla is not in her bracket.

“I can never beat her,” the words she said to Sarah after losing in the French to the talented Spaniard plays in her mind. “Too smart...that one-handed backhand...Too crafty...Fuck...I’ll always be her pigeon.” Her coach was quiet during her entire rant, letting her talk and even giving her an extra day away from training to deal with the loss. “Let’s get to work,” was all she said when they resumed two days later, not even bothering to acknowledge the things she said after defeat.

She gets out of the shower when her fingers began to wrinkle. The thought of facing somebody who she has played and lost to five times in a row effectively ruined her appetite so she went to bed instead. She wasn’t sure what time she fell asleep and what the time is when she opened her eyes to a ringing cellphone.

“Yo Rachel,” Cosima said still half asleep when she answered the phone and saw that it’s her agent calling.

“Yo,” Rachel said dryly with a hint of irritation that screams ‘_I’d rather pull my nails than talk to you’._ “Let’s keep this short. I’m calling because you’re going to a public relations event tomorrow afternoon – it’s for a charity that Tennis Canada supports. Mr. Stephens from the WTA PR Department will update you about this. He’ll be coordinating with you via a phone call in five minutes.”

“Whaaat?” Cosima asks as he sits up on her bed and fumbles for her glasses.

“It’s a simple hit and giggle,” Rachel explains, “one you can easily manage without my supervision, I hope. The girl originally participating suddenly has a pressing commitment with one of her sponsors, and sponsors trump charity of course. The WTA PR Department saw that interview you gave this afternoon on YouTube and thought that you would be a good fit for the event.”

“I still don’t understand,” she said and although Rachel is silent, Cosima knew she was seething with impatience.

“I will let Mr. Stephens take over from here. Goodbye, Cosima.” And the line goes dead. Shortly, her agent sends her a text message containing nothing but the YouTube link of her interview with Nick. It’s barely two minutes long and as she watches, she’s still unsure what is it about the interview that made her “a good fit” for a PR stunt. She knows she can turn on the charm when she feels like it or when it’s necessary, but she’s quite sure that there are equally-charming players who are better-known and ranked higher than her who could draw a bigger crowd for a charity event.

As Rachel said, a call came five minutes later. David – Mr. Stephens to the always-business Rachel – is chirpy and genial, as he should be since he’s essentially asking her for a last-minute favor. He explains the event – what is it about, where and what time, and Cosima listens carefully. “Sure, I’m in,” she replies, there’s no use resisting anyway because her agent already decided for her.

“Great,” David exclaims, “we were really in a pickle when Maddie backed out. But we saw your 15-Love segment and knew right away you’d be a great alternative.”

“I don’t get it,” Cosima said the hand not holding the phone flailing in confusion and curiosity. “I saw the video just now, nothing jumps out of the ordinary...”

“Oh right, I forgot to tell you who you’re playing with,” he says as if mentally slapping his head for not filling her in. “You said you love Totentanz and that’s great because you’re playing doubles with Delphine Cormier. Now, her agent says she doesn’t know anything about tennis so you’d have to take the lead and make her feel comfortable...”

Mouth slightly agape with the mini-surprise, Cosima puts the call on speaker and quickly typed in the name Delphine Cormier in the search box. “Yup, she’s Johanna,” she said to herself with a smile. She opens new tab after new tab of articles, social media profiles, and photos of her unexpected doubles partner. Before long, David hangs up after saying goodbye and profusely thanking her again for accepting the event at the last minute.

“Thank you, Rachel Duncan,” Cosima mumbled out loud to no one as she scans through Delphine’s Wikipedia page and opens articles about the various films she starred in. She was still reading about her when room service arrived and when Felix plopped down on his bed a couple of hours after Rachel’s phone call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The term "pigeon" in tennis means an opponent that's an easy, almost automatic win, who's game style is essentially cannon fodder for the other player's strengths and specialties. 
> 
> They will finally meet in the next chapter. :)


	4. Warming Up: August 2, 2013, 1 hour before the Charity Event

Delphine has to admit as she scrutinizes her reflection in her walk-in closet mirror that for somebody with limited athletic abilities, she doesn’t look too shabby in tennis gear. The kit that Aldous (or most likely his assistant) picked for her is a flattering cut – a white Nike tennis dress with sculpted detailing around the bust area and reinforced gold seams to accentuate the wearer’s waist. It matches the jacket and shoes it came with: a cropped, pointy-shouldered cardigan with gold trimmings and all-white trainers with Swoosh marks in subtle gold. She doesn’t know a lot about tennis, but as she runs her hands through the sides of the one-piece dress, she couldn’t help but think that this is the tennis equivalent of a little black dress.

She wears the simple white tennis shorts under the dress and glances at her reflection one last time before picking up a matching gym bag containing the essential change of clothes, a simple hygiene kit, her wallet, and her phone which softly beeps as she stows it away. She made it a point to turn it off last night after replying to pressing emails and messages so she can concentrate on learning her lines for the play. She took numerous breaks as she rehearsed – drinking tea and trading the script for the 10-page profile on her doubles partner that her agent sent her. As she went through it, she worried about the few things they have in common given their obvious age gap (Madison is just 18 while she’s a few months shy of 25). It says in her bio though that she likes fashion, that the clothes she saw on tennis players were what lured her to try the sport in the first place. Delphine figures that they can talk about that during lulls in the program.

She gives Madison’s profile one last quick scan before pocketing her keys in the cardigan. She decides to leave the files at home, taking out a dependable dark green pea coat instead just in case it rains. She was heading out to her car with her bag and had just locked her front door when she was startled by a honking Town Car.

“Delphine,” Aldous says when the windows were halfway down, “there has been a change of plans.” For a second, she entertained the possibility that the event got cancelled, only for him to ruin her hopes by saying, “you’re still doing the tennis thing...just with a different partner.”

“Merde,” she mutters as she walks towards him. The introvert in her can’t help but be anxious at the sudden change. She spent a considerable amount of time pinpointing possible talking points with Madison to keep up appearances as a confident, self-assured TV star. She’s pretty convinced now that she’ll be useless in the gala without preparation and she can already see herself clamming up in a corner all afternoon long.

Aldous opens the door, scooting to the other side of the backseat presumably to make room for her. “What happened?” She asks, ducking a little to talk to her agent without actually getting in the car with him.

“Scheduling conflicts,” he simply says. “You’re playing with someone else,” and he opens the folder on his lap, “Cosima Niehaus”.

She has no idea who that person is, but the need to get the event over and done with overpowers whatever hesitation or anxiety she has. “Okay,” she says as she walks back to her car.

“I actually came to pick you up,” he exclaims which made her glance back at him. “I figured you can use the company, have someone on your side at all times.” She’s worked with Aldous for years now and yet there are still moments like this when even the familiarity cannot counter the creepiness. But amidst the uncertainties she has about the event, she knows for certain that the last thing she needs right now is a babysitter-slash-Svengali type hovering over her as she tries to navigate a room full of people she doesn’t know who are all invested in a sport she couldn’t care less about.

“No, I’ll manage,” she replies, mustering all the false confidence she can to sound convincing. “Is that what you have on her? Give it to me and I will read it before checking in,” she says while pointing to the folder. The standoffish air of her reply worked as Aldous is left with nothing to do but repeatedly run a hand from the base to the top of his head in irritated surrender, ruffling what little strands of white hair he has left. He plops down the files on the empty backseat which Delphine immediately takes.

“Case you change your mind, all you need to do is call.” She nods halfheartedly as she closes the door. He is certainly dressed for a tennis event – with his white pants, a collared Lacoste shirt in the same color, and a beige coat tied around his shoulders. But the blonde didn’t even wait for her agent to drive off before she gets in her Lexus RX 450, wanting nothing more but for this event to be over so she can go back to learning her lines.

In less than half an hour she arrives at the stadium where an usher pointed her to a VIP parking spot near the back entrance when she refused valet service. She takes a look at her watch – 1:30 in the afternoon - and quickly opens the folder on the passenger seat. She only has 30 minutes to know anything about her new partner.

It is obvious to Delphine now that the files were printed in haste, that Aldous probably prepared it in his home office last night with nary any help from his many capable assistants. The first few pages are merely direct printouts of the player’s profile from the WTA website – way different from the neatly-encoded one she read last night about a different player that even came with a headshot. There is no such photo here so she scans Cosima Niehaus’ profile, taking note of some key points that she understands: they’re of the same age; she’s an American who lives in San Francisco; she played tennis for Stanford; has a Biology degree; a Junior French Open Champion in 2004; three career singles titles all won just two months ago.

“Not intimidating at all,” Delphine sarcastically muses as she turns the page to a Google Image print out filled with Cosima’s photos. The first thing she notices about her is the way she smiles – warm and full of life, complete with a glint of mischief in eyes behind black-framed glasses. She lingered over a photo of her on court: dreadlocks up in a tight bun; wearing tennis clothes in lively colors; compact and well-toned body with what looks like tattoos on her arms; the look of pure concentration on her face as she waits for the ball. All her ideas about what a typical tennis player looks like – prim, proper in crisp white tennis dresses like the one she’s wearing - gets shattered with every photo that her eyes take in.

“She looks better with the glasses,” she nonchalantly said as she takes one more look at the page before moving on to the next – a slightly pixelated cover of a tennis magazine from 1996 with a photo of young girl wearing a visor returning a shot. She smiles, finding it cute that the racket in the child’s hands looks bigger than her. “_Look Out!_” the headline said in big, bold letters, followed by the caption: _“Cosima Niehaus, age 8, the champion that the USA expects”_. She was looking forward to the article that comes with the cover page but instead got something else - a website post published in 2010.

_“Prodigy is the only word that can describe Cosima Niehaus when she first emerged in the world of tennis. She has an innate talent for the sport and with quality coaching and training at a young age, she was beating juniors ranked higher than her and older than her by the time she was eight. She was so good that she ran out of junior opponents to compete against before her 10th birthday. The 2004 Girls' Singles title in the red clays of Paris and her many junior-level conquests were merely validations of what most tennis pundits already know by that time– she’s tipped for multi-Grand Slam success. Even when she stopped growing in height, it would be hard to convince tennis enthusiasts and officials that she would win the French Open before she hits her 20th birthday.” _

The article with a title _“Cosima Niehaus: Contemporary Tennis Cautionary Tale?”_ went on to make its point, and Delphine finds herself engrossed.

“_At 17, everybody was expecting Niehaus to turn pro, with the USTA practically handing the girl from Berkeley, California a main draw wildcard in the 2005 U.S. Open. And then the unexpected happened - Niehaus suddenly announced that not only is she not accepting the wildcard, she’s also foregoing turning pro to enroll in university. She chose to study and play in Stanford over Berkeley in what many consider to be a weak, halfhearted effort to keep her doors open to tennis [Editor’s Note: Based on 10-year tournament records, Stanford has a better, more winning tennis program than Berkeley]. For four years, the player once touted as the “Champion the USA Expects” lingered in the college tennis circuit, playing against opponents that would never be at her skill level, who on their good days would still lose to a double fault-prone Niehaus._”

The wall of text was broken by photos of Cosima in various stages of her life: as a junior tennis player with long hair flanked by her parents while hoisting a trophy; as a normal college kid in dreadlocks hanging out with friends or cheering on her teammates in her tennis team; and while she returns a tennis ball playing to an almost empty stadium. “_Two months ago, the tennis virtuoso now 22 years old, pegged as a barely legal future World # 1, has announced that she’s finally turning pro...only to be rudely welcomed three days later in a Challenger event by a devastating 6-2, 6-3 loss to a player who she easily defeated only four years prior..._”

Delphine put the papers back on the front seat. The files about Cosima may have been haphazardly prepared yet somehow, the jumbled collection of papers managed to achieve something that the well-curated report on her original tennis partner did not. With everything she has read only piquing her curiosity more, the need to read about Cosima has been replaced by a simple wish to meet her in person, to actually speak to her and get to know her.

As she steps out of her car with only five minutes to spare, she can’t help but look forward to the possibility that she’s actually meeting a kindred spirit.

\-----

“Bye,” Cosima melodiously says before stepping out of the tournament’s service car. Inside, an excited Kira – surrounded by her uncle and grandmother - is sitting on her mother’s lap and waving her goodbye with a silly, toothy smile.

“You’ll be alright, yeah?” Sarah asks her and Cosima nods while she slings her tennis gear on her shoulders. When she informed her team that she got roped in to the tournament’s hit and giggle, her coach insisted on re-arranging their schedule so she can join her. She refused because she can see right through her - she’d rather be in a boring event than feel inadequate around her daughter. “I kinda suck as a mum – regardless of whether I’m there or not,” she would always say whenever the topic comes up. And while she and Felix always object to it, the dreadlocked American knows that there’s no use objecting if her coach wouldn’t believe them anyway.

Besides, the last thing she needs right now is a dour wingman-type hanging around her and her newest girl crush.

“Take it easy, you hear me?” Felix adds half-jokingly. “Show off a little, but don’t overexert yourself,” and he winks. Her physio sees right through her, sensing her excitement about today last night while he was giving her the usual post-practice treatment and massage. “Who are you even hitting with?” He asked as he tended to her ankles and feet. She handed him her phone to show him a photo. “Well now I get it,” he replied, pointing out that having perfect blonde curls like Delphine’s should be a crime. “It’s probably airbrushed... nobody is that perfect,” he dismissively judged. 

An usher approaches her which made her look at the time on her phone. “Shiit...take mushrooms!” She gasps, censoring herself before letting out a slew of profanities around Sarah’s child. “I’m late,” and she runs towards the entrance while shouting “see you later.” Thankfully, Cosima knows the drill, having been in and around hit and giggles most of her young life. She heads to the lockers to deposit her things, giving herself one last glance to see if she’s well put together before heading out to center court to mix and mingle.

This is Cosima's third Rogers Cup since turning pro, but the fact that this is her first time to step foot on center court begins to sink in as she smiles and shake hands with some of the guests. In one of the smaller courts last year, she lost in the second round to the tennis wizard that is Aga Radwanska – a Polish player who doesn’t have a lot of power in her game but relies on delicate court geometry to create unbelievable angles and passes. She’s another one of those players who she feels she will never beat ever because “she’s a more disciplined, more intelligent version of me,” she once said to Sarah. As she remembers that match, she tries to not think that this maybe the only time in her career that she would ever step foot in any center court - that she would always be a tennis sideshow, slightly prominent because of a “wasted talent” narrative attached to her name.

The sidelines opposite the players’ benches of the Stade Uniprix have been transformed to accommodate a couple of open bar counters and small tables laden with delicate floral arrangements and sumptuous food. She was going to one of the makeshift bars to get a bottle of water when she hears her name.

“Cosima! Hi!” And the man who she recognizes to be David Stephens gives her a handshake and a polite kiss on her cheek. “So glad you can join us this afternoon. Delphine,” and he proceeds to clear his throat to get the attention of the other woman standing next to him talking to a guy in a suit, “this is Cosima Niehaus. One of WTA’s most promising players – she just won her third title two weeks ago.”

Cosima’s gaze quickly shifts from David to the blonde beside him. The photos and videos she saw of her last night does not even capture the things that draw her in to her now– the shy smile, the beauty marks on her face, the hazel doe eyes, and the way she nervously bites her lower lip which makes her cute, endearing, and sexy all at the same insane time. She gets a sense that Delphine is somebody who’s not only aware about how beautiful she is, but is also quite shy about it. It’s quite an adorable sight to behold, if she's being honest.

“This is Delphine Cormier,” David once again enters the picture, “you’re partner for today.”

The usually charming and clever Cosima seem to have regressed and is only able to say a meek “Hi, I’m Cosima,” as she gives her hand to the beautiful blonde. Delphine, who is no spring chicken when it comes to parties and events, only managed a smile and a barely audible “Enchantée,” which the American said right back in an almost perfect pronunciation, thanks to the numerous times she’s heard the word in her trips to Paris.

“I’ll leave you two to get to know each other before you hit the courts, if you would excuse me,” David says as he moves on from them to continue working the room.

Cosima noticed that Delphine is wearing a Nike Wimbledon kit made exclusively for arguably its most popular endorser, Maria Sharapova. She always found all-white kits boring and she often pushes boundaries during Wimbledon by adding a dash of color to her chosen apparel. She never did appreciate the kit on the Russian - even if she had seen her in it in the few times they silently crossed paths around the grounds. But seeing it on Delphine now gives Cosima a newfound appreciation for the dress’ clean lines and subtle hints of color. She can try to be poetic about it, but the simple fact would have to do for now – that dress looks so good on her tennis partner because its simplicity highlights her beauty.

Unbeknownst to Cosima, the TV star is also taking her in – internally wondering how a set of tennis clothes that looks mismatched comes together perfectly when worn by the smaller woman. She quickly files the vision in front of her: a welcoming and infectious smile that reaches her caramel-hued eyes; the red sleeveless tennis top with thin straps, cut in a way that gives a peek of her red sports bra; black pleated tennis skirt with its matching wristbands; and black knee-high socks over black tennis shoes with yellow-green lines. She finds her cute – the kind of cute she can never pull – and when the toothy grin disappears from the American’s face, she realized how uniquely beautiful the tennis player is, how interesting she looks with her dreads and her nose ring.

Based on what Delphine read about her and the image in front of her now, she jumps to the conclusion that Cosima Niehaus is somebody who likes crossing lines and boundaries - not in a vain effort to maintain a rebellious image, but because she likes to show that the lines are drawn wrong. It doesn’t take much for her to decide that she likes her instantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quip at the end about somebody who likes crossing lines and boundaries is something that EBro said in a recent interview which you can watch here - https://twitter.com/tkltklme/status/1194271226555817984  
Many thanks to the uploader who translated it. :)


	5. A Hit and Giggle: August 2, 2013, Charity Event

Intrigued from the first meek hello, Cosima and Delphine didn’t realize that their hands are still wrapped around each other until a waiter walks by offering them drinks. Delphine breaks away first by grabbing a glass of sparkling cider from the tray. “Do you want anything?” She asks Cosima.

“Ahhh,” Cosima replies while trying to shake some sense into her head, “just water, thanks,” she finally said to the waiter. “Room temperature, please,” she requests and the waiter nods before disappearing to the bar.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” the blonde quips, “I’ve never been in one of these before,” she confesses.

“You don’t have an accent,” the dreadlocked brunette goes off tangent, unable to filter her inner thoughts. Delphine laughs, remembering the only scribble her agent wrote in the file about Cosima – “_She says she watches the show, unsure if true._” It’s true, she thinks now, or she would never have commented about the accent.

“No, I don’t,” and she again ensnares her lower lip with her teeth which made Cosima absently wet her lips. The waiter comes back with a smile as he hands her a napkin and a bottle of Evian. She twists the cap and takes a gulp as her partner speaks. “I’m Canadian - from around here, actually. But as you know Johanna is a French spy so I have to speak with an accent.”

“Obvs,” she replies with exaggerated hand gestures. But the furrow in Delphine’s brows eggs her to explain herself further. “I mean, obviously you’re playing a part and it’s a pretty convincing accent. I’ve been to France a lot and the way you speak in Totentanz is very...French...” Cosima lets out a puff of breath and an awkward smile. “I’m not making a good first impression, aren’t I?” She asks her out loud. “I’m a rambling mess and I’m late. I’m sorry.” The tennis player internally smacks herself in the head, cringing at the thought that she’s making a fool out of herself in front of the gorgeous blonde. She blames tennis for the sorry state of her social skills - believing that years of living in the professional tennis bubble has done a number on her ability to charm or even carry a simple conversation that is not tennis related.

Delphine dismissed her remarks though, lightly brushing her hand on her arm as she shakes her head in dissent. The touch, as simple and fleeting as it was, puts the American at ease. “I guess we can call it even,” she then adds with a worried look on her face, “I mean you’re going to have to do all the tennis work later. So I’ll be the bigger...” she takes pause to find the words, “euh, rambling mess in a few minutes.”

“Well, let’s make sure that doesn’t happen,” and she regains her confidence now that tennis is back in the mix. She moves to stand next to the actress and gives her a friendly nudge. “So what do you know about tennis?”

“Nothing,” and they laugh, “I mean it. The only thing I know is to not to get hit by the ball.”

“Okay, that’s something...Sage words if you ask me,” Cosima jokes. “There are only a couple of things you need to know – I would be serving the entire time so you’re going to be standing near the net. The first team to win four games wins. When I say ‘You’ it means you’re the one hitting the ball. Try to hit it as high as you can with a bit of force and it will cross the net. We’re playing doubles so that means that as long as the ball lands inside the lines it’s in. Everything else I can tell you while we play, but I promise that I’m going to do my best to make you look good out there..." _not that you need it,_ she wanted to add to her instructions. “Easy, right?” She settled for those words instead. 

“Oui,” Delphine says wanting to sound confident, only to be betrayed by the shaking hand holding her drink.

“Hey, hey,” Cosima says, “I can promise you one thing here – you will never be alone out there. You’ll always have me.” The words easily escaping her lips surprise her. Only 10 minutes into speaking with the blonde and her protective instincts have already kicked in – never mind if it’s stoked by something as minute and inconsequential as a hit and giggle.

“And besides,” the American adds to make light of the situation, “we’re up against a legend with a truckload of slams – 41 of which came from doubles. So we have a solid excuse if we end up losing,” making her relax in laughter. Delphine was about to change the subject, to pivot about a local restaurant that she thought Cosima would like to dine in, when the short program before the exhibition game began. Before they know it, they are being given 15 minutes to get ready to play. And though the nerves are still simmering inside Delphine, the butterflies have somehow combined with a sense of anticipation – the wish to share a court and spend time with this charming creature.

“Just out of curiosity,” Delphine asks as they walk back to the court from the locker room, “do you play doubles?”

“Ehmm,” the brunette says, “not really. It’s not my thing,” and they reach the tunnels where they are told to wait until they are announced. “My highest doubles ranking is about 146...”

“A shame,” a voice behind them interrupts matter-of-factly. “Doubles will do a lot of good for her game,” and Cosima turns to regard the person who spoke with a warm hug. “Nice to see you here,” she said. She doesn’t know a lot about tennis but the face of the person who seems genuinely happy to see Cosima this afternoon looks familiar.

“Delphine, this is Martina - the aforementioned owner of 41 slam doubles titles on top of 18 grand slams in singles...Martina, this is Delphine...”

“Hello,” Delphine says, suddenly remembering where she’d seen her before. “I watched a documentary that featured you when I was in Prague,” she exclaims, to which Martina smiles.

“That’s good to hear, I guess,” she answers with a chuckle as Cosima looks on, “I used to be public enemy number 1 there. It’s nice to meet you, Delphine. My girlfriend can’t stop talking about your show. Good luck on the court,” she says, the words sounding like a playful warning. “And you,” she’s regarding Cosima again, “come to the net and help her out.” At that moment, the TV star can only smile and wish that she knew more about tennis so she can understand what she meant by that. Martina is then whisked away by an usher who informs her and her tennis partner, the CEO of Uniprix, that they’re being called to enter the court.

“I’m sorry,” the actress says as she runs a hand through her hair, “but what’s a _Slam?_” She meant to read more about tennis but was unable to do so between the additional hours for Totentanz, the short notice about the event, and the nights spent learning her lines for the play.

Cosima is only happy to answer. “There are many tournaments in our sport, but they are all scheduled around the four really big ones – those are the majors, the Slams. The Australian Open and US Open on hard courts,” and she points to the blue flooring on center court. “Roland Garros or the French Open on the dirt – red clay. And Wimbledon, grass courts...Winning one is hard enough, imagine winning 18...”

“Which one is your favorite?” Delphine innocently inquires, though from what she has read, she thinks she already knows which one.

“The French,” Cosima adds with a shy grin. “If I could win one and just one,” and the reserved smile was replaced with one that is filled with hope, “I’d like for it to be the French.” But before she can even ask a follow-up question, they were being introduced by the announcer. Without thinking, Cosima squeezes Delphine’s hands – a gesture meant to reassure – before walking out to the court together with a wave and ready smiles.

Once their bags are on the bench, Cosima opens her tennis bag and hands Delphine one of her rackets. It was lighter than she thought as she tries to mimic the phantom swings that Cosima is doing in front of her. “You’re a natural,” the brunette quips with a wink, and Delphine smiles, only to lose her grip on the racket causing it to fly away from her hand, almost hitting Cosima on the shins.

“Okay, that’s okay. Jitters...” and Cosima cracks a smile. “Wear these,” handing her neophyte partner a couple of black wristbands fresh from their packaging. “They’ll keep the sweat from your arms away from your hands.” Delphine wears them, not minding a bit that it doesn’t match her dress.

The exhibition game, touted as a “Legends vs. Next-Gen” match-up, begins with a coin toss. A boy named Joseph with the most innocent eyes in the world chooses Delphine to call heads or tails. “Heads,” she said and as he tosses the coin, she playfully ruffles his hair which elicited giggles from the child. Cosima, who should be paying attention to the coin and the umpire, watches the easy interaction between her tennis partner and the boy representing Autism Canada. Sure, she thinks, she’s an actress – a very good one if she may add - and maybe she’s just playing her part in this event, but Cosima believes with all her heart that the scene unfolding in front of her is coming from a place of sincerity. 

“Hey,” the umpire said snapping her fingers in Cosima’s face and pulling her away from her thoughts, “it’s heads,” pointing to the coin on the court. “Serve or receive?”

“Serve,” the young tennis player replied, taking Martina - who probably expected her to choose to receive - a bit by surprise. “Great,” the umpire says, “now a quick photo with Joseph,” and Cosima and Delphine both place a hand on each other’s backs. The smiles on their faces captured by the tournament photographer shows how mutually well-received the innocent, simple touches are. In the next shot, Delphine puts her arms around Joseph’s shoulder who happily leans in to the gesture. She gives him a tight hug before he left the court while Cosima gives him a high five.

“That’s too cute,” Cosima said silently with a grin as she makes her way to the service line. Before the photo-op, she already told Delphine where to stand when she’s serving. “Just don’t hit her, don’t hit her, don’t hit her,” the American quietly reminds herself in between bouncing the ball. She takes her stance, tosses the ball, and propels almost her entire body to hit the ball with her racket.

“15- Love,” the umpire announces. Cosima’s serve cleanly hits the line and though it wasn’t that fast, it’s very well-placed. Delphine approaches her and gives her a pat on the shoulder. “Wow, just keep doing that and I don’t have to do anything.” The brunette can only smile at the impossibility of the blonde’s request.

She lets out another serve which the grizzled legend returns. Cosima didn’t have to run very far to retrieve the ball and she returns it short. The ball was received by Mr. CEO who then returns it to Delphine’s side of the court.

“You!” Cosima instructs. The ball is not too fast and Delphine gets to it and tries to remember her partner’s earlier instructions – _“try to hit as high as you can and add a bit of force.”_ She almost gasped in delight and surprise when her first shot of the match – a slow, awkward-looking forehand, managed to clear the net. Her celebration was short-lived when the ball returns to their side. “You!” Cosima says again while she runs towards the net. She does as she’s told and by the time the ball comes back to their side, Cosima was already beside her to finish the point with a well-placed volley, the angle of the shot clipping the far end of the doubles alley. “30-Love,” and the umpire ticked her tablet so the score would reflect on the board.

“I didn’t know you had that shot in you, Niehaus,” Martina shouts from the other side of the court. 

“I didn’t know either,” Cosima jokes, _“I sure have a lot of motivation to come to the net though,”_ she thinks to herself. After a few more exchanges, Cosima and Delphine – Team Next Gen, won the first game, limiting the opposing team to a solitary point when the American double faulted at 40-Love.

“So how does it feel winning your first game of tennis?” Cosima asks Delphine as they drink water before Team Legends starts the second game with their serve.

“It feels good,” she says while trying to catch her breath, suddenly regretting her decision to smoke a cigarette in a moment of weakness last night. “I have another question though,” she says after finishing the tall bottle of water and walking back to their side of the court while waiting for their opponents to take their positions.

“Ask it after this point,” and Delphine nods. But the tennis legend from across the net, retired for seven years now, managed to ace her younger opponent twice in a row. Team Legends went on to win the next game and even threatened to break Cosima’s serve as Mr. CEO exploited Delphine’s inexperience on the tennis court by repeatedly targeting her feet with an overhead smash. In the next rally, the TV star missed the ball completely but Cosima was quick enough to run behind her to return it. Unfortunately, it left the American’s side of the court open for Martina to land a searing return on the double’s alley. But more than the inexperience, the blonde was finding it hard to concentrate when she finds it so tempting to just watch her partner run around and play the game beautifully.

“You’re doing fine,” the American reassures her partner when she moonballed a shot that landed way outside the lines, “you’re not alone in this, remember? I got you. Don’t be afraid to hit the ball.” And true to her word, Cosima decides to take matters in her own racket. Down 15-40, she decides to shorten the points by adding a little oomph in her serves. It worked - a rare moment when she was able to serve her way out of trouble when Martina netted the serve returns. The crowd cheers and erupts when The Legends again managed to win the next game which puts them at 3 games all – the winner of the next game wins the exhibition.

“Sorry, you had a question for me?” Cosima tells Delphine as they pat themselves with a towel while sitting on their bench during a break before their team is set to serve for the match. To say that she is enchanted with the blonde is an understatement and Cosima can’t help the smile forming on her face as she looks at her now with a tennis racquet on her hand. Delphine has been a good sport throughout the match, unafraid to ask questions or laugh at herself when she makes mistakes – reminiscent of how she first reacted to a tennis lesson many, many years ago. “Three minutes,” the umpire says indicating how much time they have left on their break.

“Ah yes, the scoring - I get it now. But I need you to explain something to me,” and Cosima tries to not get distracted when Delphine re-ties her hair in a messy ponytail. “Why is zero called love in tennis?”

She searches for the most eloquent words to answer her partner while fighting the urge to tuck the loose strand of blonde curls that stubbornly refused to join the re-tied bun. “The most common explanation for that,” she begins saying and Delphine gazes at her as if there’s no other person around them, “is that it’s a bastardized version of the word _l'oeuf_. Some French dude watching tennis said that the number zero looks like an egg, and it caught on. Since then, love has always meant nothing in tennis.”

“Why do I get the feeling that you have a different take on it?” Delphine reacts in a playful tone with a sly smile.

“Because I do,” Cosima answers with confident bravado. “Love may mean zero in tennis, but sometimes – and this happens to me a lot – love is the only thing that’s keeping a losing player on the court. The love for the game, the love for the competition...You don’t need love in tennis, but sometimes it’s all you’ve got left, you know?”

“I like your take better,” the blonde confessed and bites her lip.

“Time,” the umpire calmly says and Cosima gives Delphine one last smile before marching back to the service line. The TV star looks on fondly, the enchantment clearly not one-sided, before taking her position near the net. Playing without pressure, Cosima managed to serve well but as expected, her newbie tennis partner shanks a couple of shots that gave free points to the opposing team. Even so, they arrived at match point after a flub by Mr. CEO.

“What’s our strategy?” Delphine asks as Cosima inspects the three tennis balls passed to her by a ball kid. “Do you just win it with the serve?”

“No,” the dreadlocked American answers. She wants to heavily involve her in the final point so that even if they don’t see each other again after this event, Delphine would always remember this day – the day she played tennis for the first time and won her first match. A little something to remember her by as well, she thinks.

“We stick to our guns,” Cosima whispers. “I’ll create an opportunity – I’ll draw Martina out as much as I can, but I need you to count shots for me. On the 11th shot, get ready to hit the ball but try to target her side of the court as close to the net as possible. If we don’t get it with this point,” she says to take the pressure off her partner, “we’ll figure something else.” They give each other fist bumps and Cosima returns one ball to the ball kid before preparing to serve. Her first serve went straight to the net and the ball rolled by Delphine’s left foot. A ball boy scampers to grab it before she can even politely pass it to him. 

As Cosima prepares for her second serve, Martina moves forward from the edge of the line to inside the service box, expecting a softer serve and hoping to score a winning return. The young American decided to take a risk by treating her second serve as if it’s her first. It luckily flew in to the other side of the net, but Martina was ready to return it. They exchange cross-court rallies and Delphine concentrates to keep count. By the fifth shot, she can see what Cosima is trying to do – she’s trying to get the legend out of position, painting and treading the lines as she waits for an awkward return. She has lost count until she saw Martina barely staying in the rally, returning the ball with outstretched arms.

“YOU!” Cosima shouts from the baseline and fueled by the confidence pumped into her by her unexpected tennis partner, Delphine executes a simple volley that landed deep in the deuce court just as Martina was running towards the net. The ball bounces twice even before any of their opponents can get to it.

“Game, set, match, Cormier and Niehaus,” and even if she didn’t know anything about tennis, Delphine knew that they won. She couldn’t help running towards Cosima, who’s already leaping towards her as they meet for an embrace on no man’s land.

“You did it,” the brunette whispers.

“That was incredible! You’re mesmerizing to watch,” the blonde whispers back, as the audience applauds the efforts of both teams. They reluctantly let go of each other as Cosima leads the walk towards the net to shake hands with the Legends Team.

“You took me to the woodshed there,” Martina says in between cheek kisses, “you really should play more doubles.” And Cosima can only smile at her suggestion. She isn’t the only one pushing her to entertain playing doubles. For the longest time, Sarah has been trying to pair her up and get her a wildcard doubles entry. She always thought it was a bad idea, the added physical strain wouldn’t be worth it - but after sharing the court with Delphine and with one of the sports GOATs, she’s finally warming up to her coach’s idea.

As the closing program starts and David announces the amount raised and donated for the cause, Cosima takes quick glances towards Delphine and the center court’s clock. In her head, she’s enumerating the things she would give up just to spend another hour or two with the blonde, even if she knows that the additional hours wouldn’t be near enough for her. Delphine catches her looking and she smiles, and though Cosima should feel a bit embarrassed, she feels grateful that the taller woman couldn’t read her mind - though it wouldn’t take much to know her thoughts given the blush that’s forming on her cheeks.

“I’m thinking we should celebrate,” Delphine suggests when Cosima decided to stare at the floor instead of her tennis partner. “I’m free after and there is a nice little French bistro tucked in a more quiet part of downtown,” she shares finally able to tell her about the restaurant she thought the American would enjoy.

The tennis player smiles, “Yeah, yeah, of course, we gotta celebrate our big win. And...Oh shit!” David takes a sharp glance at her sudden outburst as Delphine tries to stifle a laugh. “Sorry, I just remembered something,” she says, offering an excuse with an awkward smile. “I just remembered...” the dreadlocked brunette then whispered to Delphine when David resumed speaking, “I’m totally down for some French food...but is that restaurant kid-friendly?”

The blonde raises both her eyebrows but still manages a small smile at her shorter woman’s inquiry. “They have a kid’s menu. Why? Do you have kids?” And Delphine tries to remember the file she just read about her - she doesn’t remember any mention of kids or significant others.

“Nah, no, no,” she vehemently denies and they clap as the program reaches its conclusion and they are asked to remain on the court so that donors and guests can have their photos taken with them. “It’s just that, I kinda promised Kira – my coach’s daughter, that I’m going to make it to dinner with them. It’s her birthday next week and they’re in the Ecomuseum Zoo right about now.”

“I don’t mind the company,” Delphine immediately answers, “if you don’t mind a tag-along,” she adds before smiling for the cameras with a middle-aged couple in country club wear and conveying their thanks for their generous donation. All day she looked forward to the conclusion of this event so she can come back to rehearsing for the play, but one afternoon with the beautiful and interesting American was all it took for her priorities to wonderfully shift. Maybe it was the high from the game – the sudden gush of endorphins pushing her to take a rare night off from work - but whatever it is, it’s making her want to spend a few more hours with the brunette.

“Awesome,” Cosima beams as the camera again captures another group shot with the gala guests. “I’ll text them the name of the restaurant and we can meet them for early dinner...Say an hour and a half from now?”

“Yes, it’s Bistro Sur La Rivière.” Delphine replies with a ready smile not for the cameras or the guests but for one particular person alone. “It’s about 20 minutes from here. You can ride with me - my car is just right outside.” With guests already making their way out of the venue, David shakes hands with the Legends and with the Next-Gen teams as Cosima grabs her phone from her tennis bag. 

“Sorry, how do you spell that?” She asks Delphine. “Maybe you can just send me the details and I can forward it to Sarah and she can show it to the driver,” _smooth..._Cosima thinks to herself with a dash of sarcasm. With tennis being her life now, she couldn’t even remember the last time she asked for a girl’s number, much more the last time she went out to dinner with someone else outside her team and her parents.

Delphine, with a shy smile, nods and proceeds to get her phone from her gym bag. She types in the restaurant details, along with an address and some landmarks. “Here,” and she hands her phone to the American. “Just put in your number.” The phone dings, indicating that the message is sent. Cosima waits for it while trying to look calm, making sure to save the number first before sending the message to Sarah. As she does this, Delphine is also tending to her phone, making a new contact before putting it in her cardigan as they walk towards the locker room.

“I’m parked just beside the back entrance,” she then says to Cosima when an attendant led her to a different dressing room for non-players. “I’ll see you out there,” and she leaves as Cosima takes out a clean towel from one of the benches before jumping in the shower.

Usually, the dreadlocked American takes her sweet time in the shower after a match – either to get her wits together, or to let it all out after a loss so she has her shit together during the press conference. The quick, utilitarian shower usually takes place before she heads for a match, taking no less than 15 minutes to get clean before leaving the hotel to head out to the venue. But at the prospect of sharing a meal with the enchanting blonde, all bathing preferences and rituals were put on the back burner as she thoroughly cleans herself while keeping a close eye on the clock by the locker room door. All in all, it took her 45 minutes to bathe and towel off; to wear her clothes: a beige patterned sweatshirt bearing her sponsor’s logo, black joggers and white sneakers; and to put on her makeup – making sure that her winged-out eyeliner is on point so that the focus would be on her eyes and not on her casual wear.

She thought about bringing a different set of clothes for after the match - eyeing the body-hugging maroon dress, black tights, and the brown oxford pumps she bought in Europe – but found it too presumptuous of her to actually bring them. She instead packed a change of clothes fit for a night at the arcade and a greasy meal at Five Guys, and as she closes her bag to meet Delphine, she couldn’t help but rue that she has enough space in her bag to comfortably pack the other outfit.

“Maybe there’ll be a next time for that,” she mumbles to herself as she smiles and thanks the attendant mopping the locker room floor before picking her bags and leaving.

“Cosima!” A voice echoed in the parking lot when she got out of the stadium and from a distance, she can see Delphine waving at her. She couldn’t get there fast enough, though she is tempted to take both a mental and actual picture of the actress so she can show Felix just how wrong he is about her “airbrushed” perfection. Standing face to face, Cosima begins to wonder how something as simple as a black pair of pants and a white shirt could look so good on someone. She averts her gaze, secretly relishing delving in this new puzzle right in front of her. 

“Let me help you with that,” and she lets the blonde take the lighter bag containing her slightly-sweaty tennis clothes. Cosima, in an effort to not stare, opens the passenger door to ride shotgun while Delphine fixes the bags in the trunk.

“I’m just going to move these...” Cosima informs as she grabs the things on the seat while Delphine makes her way in front of the steering wheel.

She had forgotten what’s out in the front seat, the realization only sinking in to her when she looked to Cosima as she started the car.

“So,” Cosima breathes out and Delphine can only worry at her lip as the miscue unfolds, “I see you’ve been reading about me...” and she rifles through the articles and papers about her. The mood in the car shifts as the playful, encouraging voice of her tennis partner that just an hour ago made her feel that she can slay legends have been replaced by a tone she can only hope to be that of surprise and not of disenchantment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adding a link to a simple article on tennis scoring just in case you got lost with all the tennisy things in this chapter - https://www.popsugar.com/fitness/How-Keep-Score-Tennis-4559452
> 
> Again, my biggest thanks to those reading this fic and giving it a shot. Please do let me know what works and what doesn't work for you down at the comments. :)


	6. A Dossier and a Dinner

When Delphine was seven, she accidentally broke her mother’s antique flower vase. While waiting for her mother to take her to school, she was convinced that the living room floor had turned to lava and that her survival rested on her ability to leap to the center table - about three feet away from where she was standing on the couch. Her landing was perfect, she thought, until she heard the thud of breaking ceramic.

In the eyes of a child, there was really nothing extraordinary about the vase - the faded orange design was mostly plain and it’s rarely used especially after her parents’ divorce. She never understood why her mother reacted the way she did as she picked up the shattered pieces - not angry at her daughter, but sad and disappointed as the child said sorry for what she’s done. 14 years will pass before Delphine will know the sentimental value it held – that it was her mother’s last connection to her French roots; that her great grandmother bought it with her last remaining francs from a local store in Marseille, a cheap impulse buy an hour before boarding a ship to start a new life in Canada.

She doesn’t exactly know why she’s remembering this now as she watches Cosima go over the files. It probably has something to do with the look on the brunette’s face, unintentionally transporting her to the first time she knew what disappointment is and what it looks like. “Cosima, I’m...Merde...Really sorry for this. My agent...” is all she could say – the statement only bearing slight differences from what she said to her Maman that morning all those years ago.

At the blonde’s words, the tennis player shifts in her seat as she examines a photo of her when she was a child. She remembers the racket she used when it was taken – a parting gift from her first tennis coach who left San Francisco to work in a Florida tennis camp. It was a customized Head Radical tennis racket, given to her because of her coach’s ardent but misplaced belief that she would be the female Andre Agassi of her generation. “I just want to be me, not anyone else,” she remembered saying before her amused mother prompted her to say thanks.

She believes now that whoever compiled this report clearly didn’t dig hard enough because if they did, that bit of trivia would have been in here. While it’s uncomfortable knowing that someone has to read stuff about her first before actually meeting her, she isn’t really pissed - just a bit disappointed - which is surprising because she had walked out or angrily gave a piece of her mind over shallower things before. Maybe it’s the high of the win combined with the attraction to Delphine, but when she returns the blonde’s gaze, she’s about ready to start over.

“It’s okay, no explanations needed,” she says. “This is something my agent has done before too. And if I were in your shoes, I’d probably do the same thing. Scratch that, actually I’d research better,” she quips.

Delphine lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding in as she drives towards the restaurant. In the silence that followed after Cosima found the files, she was afraid that the American would just up and leave without giving her a chance to apologize. She can’t explain why she feels an incessant need to find a way to make it up to her tennis partner - maybe it was plain common courtesy or maybe it’s because this afternoon is the happiest she’s been since she got her first acting job. “You have to let me pay for dinner,” she muses, “it’s the least I can do.” She hopes that that would be enough to recapture the easy, friendly banter they had going before they got in the car.

Cosima nods along as she looks out to the sights of downtown Montreal. Sure, dinner would be great, but she’s enjoying this little game and the sad pair of puppy eyes that comes with it. “I have a better idea,” and she grins. “I get to ask 15 questions about you whenever I want and you have to answer truthfully. No topic is off-limits, everything is open season.” In this way, Cosima thinks, she can just randomly text or call the blonde under the guise of cashing in a question without the need to come up with an awkward reason why she’s touching base.

Delphine smirks at the suggestion. “That’s what you want?” And the brunette nods, her side smile making her look adorable and mischievous at the same time. “Okay,” and she puts the car to a stop when they reach a traffic light. “Say I agree to this, what do I get in return?”

“You get me,” Cosima exclaims without thinking about her words, “...my friendship. You get to make amends and make it up to me. That’s worth something right?” She added to backtrack.

“You’re cheeky,” and Delphine can only smile as she resumes driving when the light turns green. “But 15 questions is a big deal. I could be sharing my deepest, darkest secret with someone I barely even know...”

“You have a dossier on me so I don’t think I’m a stranger,” and instantly, Cosima can see the change in the blonde’s face - a frown replacing a tentative smile. “Okay, I’m sorry...” and she reaches out to touch Delphine’s shoulder. “How about you get to ask 15 questions about me as well – but you could only ask them for as long as I’m here in Montreal. Fair?”

“Fair enough,” Delphine answers, knowing she is in no position to negotiate a better trade-off. “And because I have a time limit, I get to ask first. Are you angry about the files?”

“Really, that’s your first question?” And the blonde nods. “You could be asking about something that would be the stuff that blackmails are made of and you ask me if I’m angry at you about this,” and she lifts the folder before tossing it to the backseat.

“Hey, it’s my question. Anything goes. Open season. So?” They reach the restaurant before the dinner crowd is in full force and Cosima answers as Delphine parallel parks.

“No,” she says with a small smile. “I gotta admit that I was surprised by it, but I won’t take it against you. It’s a bit unnerving too, but...” and Delphine puts the car in park before turning off the engine to look at Cosima. “From what I can tell, everything in there is true...an incomplete truth, but still the truth.”

Delphine nods and says, “I’m really sorry for it. Truly,” and she runs her palm on the shorter woman’s arm. They spend a few wordless minutes in the car before they were interrupted by a beeping phone.

“It’s Sarah,” Cosima says after they both checked their phones. “They’re going to be a little late for dinner.”

“We can go in now and get a table, have some drinks while we wait,” the blonde suggests. They get out of the car and walk the few meters towards the restaurant’s entrance where they were immediately seated to a diner table for six. They sit facing each other as Delphine orders a glass of Merlot while Cosima asks for a cup of tea and a bottle of water. She watches her take her first sip of wine, taking in the way her lips touch the glass while also trying to remember the last time she enjoyed a glass of red. Delphine meets her inquiring eyes and smiles as she puts down her drink. “It goes without saying that all answers are confidential, no?” And the waiter arrives with a plate of appetizers.

“Of course,” Cosima assures. “I have a question,” and she considers if she would waste one of her 15 no-holds-barred questions about the files the blonde has on her. “Is there something in your files that jumped out. I mean, created an impression?”

The blonde takes another sip and gets a piece of mushroom tart. “There is actually,” she said in between bites. “Your tattoos...” and she looks intently at the partially-hidden ink on the brunette’s wrist and arm, “I knew you have them but none of the photos in the file showed it,” and at her words Cosima lays out her arms on the table, inviting Delphine to take a closer look.

“You can ask me what they mean - you still have 14 questions...” and she retreats an arm so she can stir a bit of honey in her tea.

Delphine shakes her head and dabs a napkin on the corners of her mouth. “I’ll save my questions for something else, thank you very much. I saw in the stadium that the tournament will be held for a week so I need to spread out my privileges to two questions per day.”

Cosima couldn’t help but snicker at the taller woman’s reasoning. “You really don’t know much about tennis if you think I’d be here until next week...” and her comment is met with confusion. “I’d have to reach the finals for that to happen.”

“And you don’t think that would happen?” Delphine retorts before clarifying, “that is not my second question – it’s just a follow-up to what you said.”

Cosima lets it pass, “I don’t think so...It’s going to be tough winning six straight games just to reach the finals. Tell you what,” she says because she doesn’t even want to think about her first round match tomorrow, “as a gesture of good faith, I’ll tell you about the tattoos - no questions needed - if you give me a juicy spoiler for the second season.”

“Deal,” the blonde said as she crosses her arms and leans in to her seat. “I’ll start. Someone from the team is going to become a POW next season. And no, I’m not telling who it is. You have to watch. So the tattoos...” 

Satisfied with the quickness of the actress’ answer, the American leans forward and hikes up the sleeve on her left arm, “I actually got this first,” she begins. “It’s a dandelion with its seeds flying away. I was 16 and I just won the girls’ title in the French Open,” and Delphine scoots forward to look at it, stopping herself from tracing the blown seeds with her fingers. Cosima exhales, “it’s essentially an illustration of my wish to just float away from the pressures and expectations that that win brought. It just got too much - too real - after that, you know?”

Delphine then shifts her gaze to the other tattoo, an intricate shell on the brunette’s right wrist – visible even if the sleeves are not folded or hiked. “And this?” She asks.

“I got it before graduating from college,” she muses. ”It’s a nautilus. The golden ratio,” and when the blonde appeared lost, she was ready to explain. “It’s a mathematical pattern that just repeats itself in nature. In flower petals and honey bees and, you know, the stars in the galaxy and… and in every molecule of our DNA.”

“Your Biology degree is showing, Miss Niehaus,” she jokes and Cosima smiles. “I have a question,” Delphine adds, taking note that she has 13 more to spare, “What’s the story behind it? If the dandelion is about flying away from pressure and expectation, what does this mean?” And perhaps it’s the intricacy of the nautilus that draws Delphine now into running the pad of her thumb on the shell.

“It changes from time to time, if you can believe that,” Cosima lets out a whimper, suddenly conscious about the calluses on her tennis hand and finding it hard to concentrate with the blonde’s slightest touch on her skin. “I kinda always knew that whatever happens, I was gonna return to tennis after college. When I got it, it was because I was so scared to go back to what I left behind. And this,” she says as she caresses the other edge of the tattoo with the tip of her fingers, making sure to not graze Delphine’s thumb, “was me finding some sliver of comfort in not yet knowing what else is out there...In not knowing what awaits.”

“And what does it mean now?” Delphine asks, choosing to retreat her thumb from the tattoo – not used to sharing an inexplicable intimacy that came out of nowhere and almost instantly.

“Now,” and Cosima lifts up the sleeve, “I guess it’s a reminder to strive for completeness...” Their eyes meet when she said those words and though she wanted to say more, a little girl suddenly runs to their table.

“Auntie Cosima!”

“Hey monkey!” And Cosima opens her arms to welcome the little girl with a hug. “Who’s your friend?” And she points to the raccoon stuffed toy that the child is clutching.

“This is Oliver,” she says as she places him to sit in the middle of the table. “Uncle Felix’s birthday gift,” and when Oliver was sufficiently introduced, she grabs a hold of him again. “Who’s your friend?” The child returns her question while pointing to the woman from across the table.

“Oh, this is Delphine. We played tennis this afternoon. Delphine, this is Kira – my coach’s daughter.” and the little girl stands up to sit next to her.

“It’s very nice to meet you and Oliver too,” she replies as the girl reaches out to gently pull a strand of her hair out of curiosity.

“Sorry Love,” another woman appears as she joins them to sit next to the toddler, pushing Delphine to the innermost side of the table. “She’s not used to blondes,” the woman added.

“This is Siobhan, Kira’s grandmom,” Cosima interjects, “Siobhan this is Delphine.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” the blonde says as she shakes hands with the older woman. She was about to ask about their trip to the zoo when two more people – a man and a woman around her age - joined their table. Cosima makes room for them, scooting on the diner bench, again sitting face-to-face with the blonde.

“Now I get it,” the lean man with jet-black hair says, feigning a whisper to Cosima while nudging her with his elbow. Delphine can only smile even if she has no idea what he meant.

“This is Felix - Kira’s uncle and my physio. Fee, this is Delphine. And the sourpuss beside him is my coach, Sarah,” Cosima says.

“Oi,” Sarah says, barely even looking at the blonde – her attention completely captured by a piece of paper she’s reading.

“Is that our draw?” Cosima remarks and Felix nods, “what does it look like?”

“Let’s worry about it when we have to,” Sarah flatly replies as she folds the paper and stuffs it in her pocket, “let’s just focus on Kanepi tomorrow, on what you need to do,” she adds. Cosima’s reply to that is an exasperated breath, realizing that no matter how promising the afternoon was, she can no longer avoid the tennis talk over dinner. Delphine looks on, unsure of what’s happening, but her obliviousness doesn’t faze her from being worried about her new friend.

\-----

“She came to the net?” A surprised and amused Felix asks Delphine while pointing to Cosima as they enjoy their desserts after a filling meal.

“Yes, she did,” the actress replies. “Many times,” and she waited for the dreadlocked brunette to chime in with the specifics, but Cosima can only manage one-word replies and trite smiles ever since Sarah brought up the topic of the draw. She didn’t ask what it is; she figured it’s something related to the tournament, but she hoped that talking about the exhibition this afternoon will bring up the topic again so she can figure out why it’s bothering the brunette.

“She came in more than twice?” Sarah asks with a smirk as Kira sits on her lap while she nibbles on the few remaining pieces of her Frites Maison. Even the abrasive-sounding Brit seems engaged with the conversation, often smirking and clapping whenever Delphine brought up how great her tennis partner was this afternoon.

“Yes, definitely more than twice,” and Delphine tilts her head in confusion as Sarah guffaws and raises a fist in the air, relishing the small victory that her ward actually trusted her net game to win a match even if it’s just an exhibition.

“We have a little joke,” Felix clues Delphine in, “that Cosima only comes to the net twice in a match – first for the coin toss, second for the handshake. The forecourt is lava for her,” and at that quip, the blonde can’t help but remember her mother’s vase again and inadvertently, the brunette’s reaction when she first saw the dossier. As Felix and Sarah laugh and pepper her with comments (most of which she doesn’t understand because it’s tennis related), Delphine takes a quick glance at Cosima, wanting to ask her what’s on her mind even if it costs her a question. 

“Pipe down you two,” Siobhan says, shooting mild warning looks at Sarah and Felix who were in the middle of ribbing Cosima about her awkward volleys. “Transitions to the net aren’t easy. You should know, chicken,” the older woman added with authority. During the dinner, Delphine learned that Siobhan used to be Sarah’s coach – that she practically taught herself tennis and devoted a chunk of her life towards helping Sarah tournament after tournament, injury after injury.

The once boisterous table eventually goes silent as the night wore on. Alerted by Kira’s yawns, Delphine asked for the check to draw the night to a close. As she pays, Cosima made a futile attempt to foot the bill, but Delphine reminded her that it’s the least she can do. “We had a deal, remember?” And the brunette offered a weak nod.

“Where are you staying?” Delphine asks as they head out after settling their meals, still eyeing Cosima who’s now tying her locks in a bun.

“The Fairmont,” Felix answers. “We can just catch a cab,” and beside him, Sarah nods as she carries Kira, eyes droopy from drowsiness and from the fun but tiring day out.

The blonde looks at her watch - it’s still early, just a little past 8 in the evening. “It’s near. I can drop you off,” she offers when she remotely opens her car. Siobhan agrees for the group and thanks her while opening the backseat door. As Delphine gets in the driver’s seat, she was a bit surprised that Cosima elected to sit at the back as Felix sat up front. “_Was it something she said about the game?”_ She wondered as she starts the car and starts to drive.

“Okay, I just have to ask just in case I never see you again,” Felix says before she made a turn to enter the freeway, “what in God’s name do you use in your hair? It’s just so lovely.” His off-kilter comment makes Delphine snort, and before long, a chorus of chuckles is emanating from the backseat. The blonde takes a peek at her rear view mirror, checking if Cosima is in on the laughter. She’s grinning, though there is a particular sadness in the American’s eyes that she doesn’t quite understand. She was about to look away, to refocus on the road ahead, when her gaze was returned. Unsure of what to do when caramel eyes met hers, the blonde looks away immediately. “I’ll text Cosima my regimen,” she answers Felix instead. 

At Sarah’s request, Delphine turns to park by the hotel’s back entrance. “The last thing we want the night before a match is to run into anyone who wants to engage in small talk,” she explains. “It was lovely meeting you,” Felix then said before alighting from the vehicle while Siobhan thanks her again for the ride. Sarah nods at her before disappearing into the hotel with Kira in her arms.

“Thank you for today,” Delphine said as she helps Cosima and Felix unload the brunette’s bags. “Good luck tomorrow,” she adds as the physio carries the bags before walking in to the hotel with Siobhan.

“I should be the one thanking you,” and this time, Cosima avoids looking at her. “Well, it’s late. I have an early match tomorrow. I’ll talk to you soon.” 

“Bye,” the taller woman meekly replied and just like that, Cosima’s gone and she was alone in the parking lot.

Confused about the sudden shift in the brunette’s mood and the anticlimactic way the night ended, Delphine is left with nothing else to do but to hurriedly get back inside the car. She was backing out of the parking spot - already planning on opening a bottle of wine and running a bath as soon as she gets home - when she saw it: Oliver the stuffed raccoon on the backseat. Kira must have dropped him when she fell asleep, she thinks, as she puts the car back on park. She pulls out the keys from the ignition, unfastens her seat belt, and grabs the toy before heading in to the Fairmont to request the front desk to send it up to Cosima’s room. She was looking at him intently - at his cute, button eyes and his small Zoo Ecomuseum t-shirt - when she bumped into a shorter figure.

“Désolée, désolée,” she says and when her eyes shifted their stare away from Oliver, she was surprised to see Cosima.

“Ah,” suddenly the blonde has lost the ability to speak coherently and all she can do is hand in Oliver before turning back to return to her car.

“I was just going out for a walk,” Cosima says as she walks away. “Do you want to join me?” Delphine’s feet have already decided for her before she can answer as she waits for the shorter woman to catch up before walking side by side with her.

The walk from the hotel to a nearby square took less than five minutes as Cosima points to a park bench and motions for them to sit. Still wordless, the blonde decides to diffuse the tension by lighting a cigarette. “Do you smoke, do you want one?” She says offering the pack before taking her first puff, suddenly realizing the error of her ways when Cosima shook her head. “_Of course she doesn’t smoke, she’s an athlete,”_ Delphine thought to herself as she takes a long, much-deserved drag.

“Just pot for me,” Cosima counters which takes Delphine by surprise. “Though it’s been a while since I got thoroughly baked,” she adds. “It’s actually one of the first things I plan to do after the everything...” And on a park bench illuminated by soft, yellow lights, their eyes delicately meet again. This time though, there were no questioning looks - just a simple search for warmth and assurance.

“I’m sorry for me, for tonight,” Cosima exhales. She has a tendency to put up a wall and keep everyone out on the eve of a tournament. She was halfway to reaching the service elevator when she realized that although Sarah and Felix are already well-aware of her tennis-induced idiosyncrasies, Delphine – the newest possible addition in her life - is completely clueless about them. “God, I could be so damn selfish,” she muttered while kicking herself for the way she treated the blonde during dinner. She abandons the elevator and decided to go out for a walk to clear her head. “I can just text her and generate a conversation from a question,” she was musing to herself before bumping shoulders with somebody she thought to be a hotel guest, but who turned out to be Delphine herself. Had the actress looked back as she walked away, she could have seen the dreadlocked woman grinning like a fool at the ghost of a chance to turn this evening around.

“Can you tell me what’s on your mind?” Delphine asks, putting out the cigarette in the nearby bin. “And it’s my question, so you have to be honest,” she adds. _“12 of 15,” _she mentally notes.

“You really want to know?” The brunette exhales. “It’s kinda heavy...” Delphine nods in spite of the warning.

“It’s fear...Mostly,” Cosima begins to answer. “It starts with the fear of losing tomorrow – that fear has been in my head since yesterday if I’m being honest. But I’m used to it,” she adds when the blonde frowned in worry. “Whenever I’m afraid that I’m going to lose my first match of the tournament, I just recite our strategies, our targets, and it keeps the fear at bay.”

“So what were you afraid of all evening long?” Delphine presses, testing the limits not only of their little game but also of their fledgling friendship. “Is it that draw? That paper Sarah was reading?”

“It wasn’t the draw,” Cosima clarifies, “it’s what the draw means” and she slides a bit closer to the actress. “It’s a different kind of fear, something I’m still trying to get a hang of...It’s the fear of winning. That paper essentially tells who I’m up against in case I win my matches.”

Delphine lights another stick in confusion. “Do I have to use another question for you to elaborate,” and Cosima smiles, “because I will if you don't.”

Cosima shakes her head, finding it surprisingly easy for her to confide to someone she’s known for only a few hours. “If there’s one thing you should know about tennis, it’s this - tennis is like a corrupt taxman. Don’t let this afternoon’s game fool you – tennis is cutthroat and mean. It asks you one simple question every time you step on court: What can you give me? So you answer by paying with everything you have physically, emotionally, mentally. And after you pay up, it asks you another question: What more can you give me? So you search deep inside you for something to give. You find a way to give more. You throw everything but the kitchen sink...and then the kitchen sink. And despite all that, you can still easily emerge as second best.”

“Now imagine,” and Cosima dusts away the forgotten cigarette’s ashes from Delphine’s pea coat, “doing that match after match. Wouldn’t you be more afraid of winning than of losing?”

The blonde didn’t respond immediately. She’s deep in thought, searching for any personal or professional experience that has even a hint of what Cosima is describing to be an almost daily occurrence in her life. “I see where you’re coming from,” she says, slightly pursing her lips, “and it’s weird because I envy you a little."

“Dude, do I even have to use a question for you to explain that?” It’s Cosima’s turn to be confused. 

“I get that it’s hard and draining,” Delphine supplies, biting her lip before offering an explanation. “But I think you’re lucky to have something you love with no rhyme or reason; something that you would willingly risk everything you have for whenever it asks for it. Most days, I don’t even feel that way about acting to be honest...”_ About anyone_ she wanted to add but she didn’t.

“And besides,” Delphine utters instead, “you’d still have to pay regardless of the outcome. So pay to win,” and the blonde reaches out to gently hold the brunette’s hand, “play to win, Cosima.”

Cosima was about to say more, something along the lines of “be careful what you wish for,” but the moment was interrupted by blaring bells from her phone – ironically, it’s an alarm to remind her to sleep – and she reluctantly pulls her hand away from Delphine’s to snooze it off. The blonde takes the hint, standing up from the bench so they can start walking back to the hotel.

“Do you want to watch me stick it to the taxman tomorrow?” Cosima asks when she began to see Delphine’s car from a short distance.

“What time is your game?” And the blonde fishes out her car keys from her pocket.

“A little after noon, around 1:30, depends on what time the match before mine ends.”

“I can’t,” Delphine says with an apologetic look. “I have work over the weekend, then I fly to New York a week and a day from now to do a play...” and the blonde sees the disappointment in the American’s face as they cross the street to get to the back entrance. “But I get off work by Thursday. I can come by then,” she adds.

Cosima processes what Delphine is offering - she’d have to make it to the semifinals if she wants her to watch. It’s an almost impossible ask but she chose to take the bait. “Okay, I’ll leave tickets for you for the entire tournament. Maybe I'm still there...but if I'm not, at least you'll get to enjoy watching. It'll be great regardless of who is playing...”

Delphine nods, but deep down she thinks that watching will only be fun if Cosima is in the mix. “Thank you again for today,” she says, re-echoing the words she just uttered the first time they were in the parking lot. “It’s really good to meet you...to...make a new friend. I look forward to Thursday,” and she unlocks her car.

“Ditto,” Cosima smiles, “obvs.”

“Bye,” and Delphine leans forward to give the brunette a kiss on each cheek. Maybe Cosima is imagining things, but she felt that the last kiss lingered longer than the first. She fights the urge to touch her cheeks by wordlessly watching the taller woman get in her car and waving goodbye while she drives off.

Cosima walks back to the hotel and waits for an elevator. “Play to win,” she says out loud as she looks at her reflection on the shiny metal doors, “I can do that,” and alone in the elevator, a glint of a smile forms on her face as her palm caresses a blushing cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving :)!


	7. Sideshow Elevations: August 2013: Rogers Cup

_Rogers Cup, Day 1 Match of the Day Nominee: Cosima Niehaus (23) vs. Kaia Kanepi (25) _

_The most evenly matched Day 1 encounter in the women’s draw is between the surging American and the dangerous Estonian. We can only imagine that Niehaus (and probably also her coach, former pro Sarah Manning) nearly fell over when they found out that she’s facing Kanepi so early in the tournament. And for good reason: Kanepi is taller, stronger, and brings with her a game filled with powerful serves and booming ground strokes. It was the same big-hitting style that booted the American out in the first round of the Australian Open earlier this year. _

_While no amount of racket smashing could have saved Niehaus that scalding Melbourne afternoon, she is coming to Montreal with momentum. Lost in the grand slam news cycle is the fact that the counter-punching American has won three WTA titles on both clay and grass in the last two months. The talent is obviously there – that has never been in question – but could it be possible that Niehaus is finally showing some grit? She’ll surely need it in huge doses this afternoon if she wants to win._

_Prediction: Kanepi in 3 sets_

Delphine shakes her head in disagreement after reading the match prediction. She first saw the article over her morning coffee when she casually searched ‘Cosima Niehaus Rogers Cup’ online, bookmarking the tennis page immediately for later consumption because she was running late for her call time. She finally got the chance to dissect it as she sits for her hair and makeup before shooting the first scene of the day: a do-over of an interrogation sequence that the network executives deemed too violent and profane.

She was attentively watching the video embedded in the article - the highlights of Cosima’s last match against her current opponent. An audible gasp came out of her mouth at the sight of the American repeatedly hacking the ground with her tennis racket in frustration, sweaty dreadlocks swaying to the chaotic dance of her intense fury.

“I heard you won,” Albert who’s sitting on the chair next to her says as he gets a re-touch. Delphine almost didn’t hear him, her attention slowly shifting from the video to the conversation.

“Yeah, I did,” she replies when her older co-star tapped her on the shoulder, which prompted her to lock her phone, pausing the video before he could even take a peek. “My tennis partner is very good.”

“Keys is good. Young and very promising,” he reacts. “I bet she aced the living daylights out of the other team.”

“I played with someone else. Cosima Niehaus. Do you know her?” She asks hoping to fish for an insight.

“Niehaus?” Albert remarks with raised eyebrows. “Oh man, yeah, she’s good alright...”

“I sense that there’s a caveat somewhere in that comment,” she sasses while a stylist armed with a straightening iron tends to her hair.

“Well,” and he clears his throat, “she’s talented without a doubt...But she doesn’t seem to want it bad enough...You get what I’m saying?”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow,” she says in her most neutral tone, not wanting to give away that she doesn’t share his opinion with all her heart.

“I guess it comes with being a prodigy, you know?” And Albert relaxes in his chair after the stylist said he’s good to go. “Things are easy for you for the longest time, so when a match becomes a slug fest you tend to fold because you’re not used to fighting for it in the first place. Anyway, see you out there, Del,” and he left with the script in his hands.

“Grit,” she whispers, what the article is trying to put across somehow making sense to her now. She gets her phone again to check if her match has already started. _“Players warming up,”_ the tournament app notifies her. Last night before going to bed, she installed the app and made sure to click the star beside ‘Niehaus, Cosima’ to get by-the-minute updates whenever she steps foot on court. She considered sending her a “Good luck :)” last night and this morning, but thought against it. She figured she can just ask her one or two questions regardless of her match’s outcome when this day ends.

“They’re ready for you,” a production assistant informs her and she stands up from her seat. She places the phone back in her pocket as she walks to the set, but not before making one last wish for the article to become nothing more but a poorly written piece in two hours’ time when Cosima finishes her match.

\-----

The night after the first match of the tournament always comes with the usual pains and niggles from all the running, chasing, and general over-exertions. Once Cosima had cooled down half an hour after the match, everything began to hurt – her ankles, her back, her feet, her shoulders. But the ice bath and Felix’s treatment have done their best to lessen the pain which enabled her to sleep an hour after her boring room service dinner of chicken breast and brown rice. Her physio was also considerate enough to give her some space tonight, lugging his bag to Sarah and Siobhan’s room even before she said good night.

The room is mostly dark except for the soft blue lights coming from the TV, intentionally left turned on so that Cosima doesn’t feel so alone. It has become a ritual for her – scanning available TV channels every time she checks in to a new hotel room - to figure out the best background noise while she overthinks the last match she played. In Budapest, she first settled for a local travel show, the sights of featured places like Paris and New York capturing her attention. She’s been to these cities countless of times before but she has only seen it through the eyes of a tennis player: airport-hotel-practice courts-stadium-hotel-airport. She switched to an MTV-like channel when her thoughts became too depressing.

In Montreal, the winner is a channel that broadcasts classic films. Her last memory before falling asleep is watching an old Quebecois film about a snow plow operator working on Christmas Eve. He was running around in the snow with a woman who seems to be his wife, but Cosima was already in deep slumber before they started having a snowball fight; and before she can even figure out if the woman was his wife or his mistress or just a random stranger enjoying the snow. 

That film has ended hours ago when she’s roused from her sleep not by the TV but by her ringing cellphone. “Hello?” She says, not even bothering to check who’s calling. At this hour it’s probably her Mom who most likely forgot the time difference or which city she’s in this week. She can’t really blame her – with all the travelling she does for tennis, even she is confused about the time and her location.

“Cosima?” And the brunette’s eyes widened a little at the realization that the call is not coming from Berkeley but is coming from somewhere local. “Did I wake you, I’m so sorry. I’ll text you my congratulations for this afternoon...Bye.”

A sleepy but audible “Wait,” was all Cosima can say - which was enough for Delphine to stay on the line. “I’m really glad you called, but I have to sleep. Practice, game tomorrow...Uhmm, can you just text me your email address?”

“My what?” The blonde asks in a voice that is a bit surprised by the odd request.

“E-mail address,” Cosima says with a yawn. “Text it to me.”

“Okay, I will. Congratulations again, I heard you did great. Bye”

“Thanks,” Cosima says, a sleepy smile forming on her face. “E-mail address. Bye.” And when she puts the phone back on the bedside table, her sleep-riddled brain treated her to an image of Delphine sitting on a park bench, smiling at her with a cigarette between her lips.

\-----

With a mug of piping hot coffee in hand, Delphine settles in their safe house set with her cast mates. Everybody is doing their own thing: Wallis is talking to his mom over the phone; Albert is solving a Sudoku puzzle; she is hunched over her phone, checking out the tennis website with the match predictions; and Greg and Pete are trying to remember the name of the bar in Prague that served them really good beer.

“Pivotéka,” she chimes in, remembering the name because it sounds like pivot.

“There you go!” And Greg points at her before pounding the table with his palm, musing how great it would be for all of them to visit Pivotéka again when they go back next year to shoot for the third season.

She’s lucky to be finally working with genuinely nice people, she thinks, as she looks for the match recap article on the website. While she always got along with co-actors and people she has worked with in the past, she’s had jobs where people are isolated in their trailers or stations – only getting together when there was a scene to be shot. There is no such isolation in the Totentanz set and though it’s a group effort to keep it that way, Lisa - their producer and one of their showrunners – should be credited for spearheading this kind of work environment. 

She finally found the article and she reads it carefully. They were rather effusive in praising Cosima’s performance, perhaps in an effort to save face after their prediction blew on their faces. She reads about how Cosima essentially served and returned well while preventing her stronger opponent from playing her game by dictating points and making her hit on the move resulting to errors. There was a short quote from the American at the tail-end of the article –“_I just want to keep playing, to keep fighting for every ball. I’m happy that that translated well this afternoon._”

The article ended with a mention of her next round opponent, a girl named Caroline Wozniacki who’s a former world number 1. She was about to ask Albert about her when she got an alert for a new e-mail from a certain ‘Conima Seahouse’. She taps it with a chuckle.

_To: dcorm10@icloud.com_

_From: conima.seahouse@gmail.com_

_Subject: Question 2/15: This is not spam :)_

_Hey – it’s me. I’ve attached a photo of me and Felix and Sarah after practice this morning to provide further proof that it is really me and not some random stalker lurking in the internet. Don’t mind Sarah’s scowl in that picture – it’s just her resting bitch face. :)_

_Thank you for calling last night and I’m sorry I was half asleep and we didn’t get to talk. I thought of getting in touch sooner but I figured you’re busy at work. And that’s why I asked for your email address - so you can reply whenever you have time or whenever it’s convenient and vice versa. Can you send me a pic as well to know that I’m really talking to you?_

_Yesterday’s match was tough. My opponent, Kaia, is somebody I know well – we played before in juniors when she was about my height. She’s a cool girl, keeps to herself and is definitely an easier opponent when we were teenagers. It’s a different story now that she’s taller, stronger, and way more experienced. I must say that I really feel good about winning against her especially after the way she essentially clobbered me the last time we met. I even came to the net and I think Sarah is crediting our exhibition for that._

_So, I’m starting what I hope to be an e-mail thread with a question: When did you know you wanted to be an actor? :)_

_I’ve got to go and prep for another match this late afternoon. It’s going to be tougher than the last one, but I hope that I’m still in Montreal when I reply to your reply._

_Talk to me,_

_C _

“Someone’s happy,” Wallis observes as he points to a smiling Delphine. “Martial finally realized the error of his ways?” He asks her. _“Far from it,_” she wanted to say. She hasn’t heard a word from him apart from an “Okay” when she told him that their vacation is off because of the re-shoot. He’s probably still in L.A. – that’s where they were supposed to meet before going to Mexico – re-writing his screenplay or meeting with producers about his next film. He promised to be in New York to watch her on-stage but at this point, she isn’t sure if he’s going to be there – or if she wants him to be there.

A coy smile is how she answered Wallis, letting him draw his own conclusions. She downloads the attached photo and sees the beaming, but tired smile of a bare-faced Cosima. Felix is on her left wearing sunglasses with a tight smile and Sarah is behind her with her arms crossed, sporting her “resting bitch face”. She then proceeds to take a selfie with the boys, intending to attach it to her reply.

She quickly scans the article for Cosima’s match this afternoon before the sound and lights crew finishes setting up the set. _Prediction: Wozniacki in 2_, the writer predicting that Cosima is going to be damned by her opponent’s incredible defense. She begins to type out a reply to the email just as the director and producers are entering the set for their last instructions before the cameras start rolling.

\-----

Recovery had always been a problem for Cosima - it was what hampered her with back injuries during her first year in the tour. The way she plays and the number of meters she runs just to return a ball makes recovery as important as her ability to run, to hold serve, and to return. With Felix on their side, she finally feels that she has a complete team behind her.

Fitness is what saved her today, she knows that. During last year’s off season when she finally got the money to hire a physio for an entire season, Sarah and Felix quickly worked on a training regimen for the preseason that ensures that she’s prepared to clock in three or four hours of running and hitting every time she steps foot on court. She lost the first set to Wozniacki in a close 7-5 fashion. Pissed and tired when she got broken while trying to set up a first set tiebreak, she smashed her racket to the ground before calling in her coach for a quick consult.

She’s thankful that Sarah as a coach is the complete opposite of Sarah as a tennis player: calm, composed, and says the right words. “Cos, I need you to stop being negative and I need you to listen to me,” she said during the timeout as she began to mention tactics that just flew over her head. “I need you,” Sarah said before their time ran out, “to believe in yourself. I need you to play perfect tennis from here on in. Drag her to the third set and then it becomes an athletic contest.”

Drag her to the third set she did. And as Wozniacki rested while getting treatment for a hurting shoulder before serving to extend the match, Cosima was practically psyching out her limping foe – running on court, tempted to do cartwheels and jumping jacks. She went on to withstand the highs and lows of the match, winning 5-7, 7-6, 6-4.

The TV is on but she doesn’t pay any attention to what’s playing as she reads Delphine’s reply. She viewed the photo that came with it first - the blonde with her Totentanz cast mates – and made sure to save it in her phone.

_To: conima.seahouse@gmail.com_

_From: dcorm10@icloud.com_

_Subject: Re: Question 2/15: This is not spam :)_

_Before I answer your question, I have one for you – Conima Seahouse? Explain. :) _ _(I have 11 more!)_

_When did I first know I wanted to be an actor...That’s easy. I really wanted to be a dancer and I was training for that in the conservatory. Acting was just a secondary interest at that time. _

_Anyway, I was going to a dance audition one afternoon on my bike when a pick-up sideswiped me. I was in the hospital for weeks, broken bones, cuts all over and all that. The doctor told me that they essentially had to rebuild my knees and that if I want to continue living with functioning knees for the rest of my life, I should stop dancing. That hurt more than the physical pain of the accident to be honest. But instead of moping, I went on to carve out a new dream. And that’s when I knew that I wanted to be an actor. Acting wasn’t my first love but it saved me in a way – it gave me a path to move forward when the other dream turned into ashes. _

Cosima re-reads the reply, feeling anger and worry about what happened to the blonde in the past. She wonders if the hit and giggle made her uncomfortable or if she had any pain from all the running to the net that she asked her to do. “No, I don’t think so, I hope,” she mutters. After processing what Delphine shared, she felt a sense of relief that she was able to get through after the car accident.

_Oh and I have another question (10 more to go) – Tell me about your first tennis match._

_Delphine_

_P.S. – Congratulations on your win today. I heard it was a bar brawl but you won. :) See you Thursday._

The knowledge of Delphine’s car accident didn’t prevent Cosima from sleeping with a silly smile on her face after sending out her reply. In spite of herself, she can’t help but look forward to seeing the blonde again when Thursday finally comes around. She only needs to get over one more match for that to happen and she’s never wanted to win something so badly in her life.

\-----

Delphine has only known Cosima for four days but somehow she has already managed to shake up her morning routine. The breakfast coffee no longer comes with a script or the morning paper - it now came with a quick check of the tennis website and her email. She reads the prediction article where she found out that Cosima is up against another former world number 1 – Jelena Jankovic, the article said. And once again, they predict her to lose in straight sets. This time, they cite a lopsided win-loss record – in six meetings, Cosima has never won against her.

Irritated with the article, she checks her email for a pick-me-upper. She laughs by herself as she reads the brunette’s reply.

_Oh my God! I am very sorry to know that. But I’m very relieved that you pulled through and you’re here talking to me!_

_Conima Seahouse actually came from this journalist who’s known to ask the most condescending questions at pressers. He interviewed me once for a campaign for the USTA and he needed 9 takes to get it right because he kept fucking up my name. “Here we have Conima Seahouse to talk about the USTA’s newest training facility”; “Conima, why did you hire the hotheaded Sarah Manning as your coach?” “Conima, do you believe you’re a wasted talent?” So as a joke of sorts (and as a way to hide online) I use Conima Seahouse as an alias._

_My first tennis match was actually fun. I was 8 and I lost 6-0 6-0 to a girl two years older than me. The score said I lost but I actually learned a lot from it. And I thought I played well so the scoreline didn’t matter too much. My mom took me out for ice cream after and that’s where my lifelong affair with Eskimo Pies started._

“Eskimo?” Delphine says out loud in her kitchen. “I don’t think I know it,” and she continues reading.

_My next question awaits you when we see each other again on Thursday. I’ll text you the match time and how you’ll get in the stadium._

_Have a great day at work and keep the questions coming – C_

Halfway through her reply, Delphine decides that whether Cosima wins or lose today, she’ll find a way for them to see each other again before she leaves for New York and before the brunette departs Montreal.

\-----

The camera pans to the left, capturing Cosima in her seat as she drinks her water and electrolytes. A few meters away and only separated by the umpire’s chair, her opponent – somebody who has manhandled her in all their previous meetings - is airing out her frustrations to her coach, but the rapid fire exchange in Serbian hardly distracts the American. The look of pure concentration is written all over her face: she is just looking straight ahead to nobody in particular as she towels off the beads of sweat on her arms during the break after the first set.

Above the stadium, the commentators’ booth squawks to fill the break in the action. “What do you make of Cosima Niehaus, Sophie? She seems to be doing rather well these past few months.”

“She is, Robbie,” the color commentator answers, welcoming the shift in topic after they tried to decipher the Serb’s dramatic and animated coaching timeout. “She won her first WTA title in Nuremberg around June then followed it up with two more. Three titles in two months, I think a lot of things are going right at the Niehaus Camp at the moment.”

“What do you think changed?” Robbie follows up. “I mean we all know she has the talent and we all know she’s a workhorse, but what’s different now?”

“I think a lot of little decisions that when you put together makes an impact,” Sophie shares. “It started in the off-season: hiring a full-time physio who gets you and who’s invested in your health is one. The decision to move her training camp from Florida to her hometown in San Francisco probably also helped. I believe that she entered the season fresh – mentally, emotionally, and physically - and that’s one of the reasons why she’s able to hang on when the girl on the other side of the net is ready to wither.”

“And it’s the little things that make a huge difference down the road,” Robbie reacts.

Back on the court, the umpire has called time on the coaching timeout. Cosima exhales before picking up her racket and running to her side of the court. She looks to her team, trying to remind herself that she is on a mission to not only win this match but to win it in a certain fashion. “Remember Brussels,” Sarah said right before the match. “Brussels” – a clay court event - happened just last year and Cosima lost, bageled in the decider after convincingly winning the first set. She is dead-set that Brussels will never happen again – especially not here in Montreal. She looks at the other side of the court before getting ready to serve, trying to remember to mix up her service patterns. She bounces the ball thrice before propelling the controlled force of her entire body weight behind the racket.

“15-Love,” the umpire says - an ace to start the second set in style.

“To add to our discussion,” Sophie commentates as Cosima begins to serve again, “I think belief also plays a huge part in her recent success. It’s funny how belief – no matter how little – can affect a player. The belief that you can serve well even if you’re up against taller and stronger hitters; the belief that you can string together seven straight wins to get a title; the belief that you can defeat a player who you’ve never won against in six tries. The belief may be coming from Niehaus herself or from her team or from someone else entirely. But it is there – you can see it in her eyes. The Wozniacki match was won on pure belief that she can win it. Whatever is making Cosima believe, she should hang on to it.”

Hang on she did as she wins the match 40 minutes later in straight sets: 6-3, 6-4, with Brussels and the prospect of Thursday on her mind as she eked out the win. In the locker room while downing her protein drink, she grabs her phone from her tennis bag to message Delphine, only to be happily surprised that the blonde had already beaten her to the punch.

“_I’ll see you tomorrow :),_” she said. In Cosima’s excitement to reply, she didn’t even notice that the message arrived 30 minutes before she even stepped foot on court.

\-----

The night before, Delphine went home early from the Season 2 wrap-up party that the showrunners hosted in their favorite speakeasy near the studio. She used the play as an excuse – the need to practice and memorize her lines got in the way of a night out with the cast and crew. Her castmates let her go easily after she promised a keg or two of Pivotéka’s special homebrew beer the next time they’re there around May.

She went for her laptop instead of the script when she got home last night, quickly looking for the highlight reel of Cosima’s match to watch before she calls it a day. After washing up and sliding under the covers, she reached out for it and set it on her lap. The last images on her mind before falling asleep were Cosima’s piercing eyes as she prepared to serve and her smile when she won the match, raising her arms in victory.

Delphine woke up around noon on Thursday, deciding to celebrate the end of a grueling three-month filming for Totentanz by sleeping in. “_This is Felix’s number,_” she reads Cosima’s text again while making a cup of coffee, “_call him when you’re already in the stadium. He’ll meet you in the cafe just near the entrance._” She looks at the wall clock on her kitchen - the match starts at 4 p.m. and for the life of her, she doesn’t know why she’s bubbling with excitement to watch Cosima live.

She overestimated the city traffic and arrived in the cafe an hour and a half before the match. She decided to keep it casual today, putting her hair in a simple princess bun and opting for a figure-hugging pair of black jeans and a cream blouse, buttoned all the way up to accommodate a silver necklace with a turquoise pendant around the shirt’s collar. She orders a cup of flat white coffee and reads the match prediction article while twiddling with the pendant. Unlike her previous opponents, Cosima’s semifinal foe is not another former World Number 1 with a complicated surname. On the contrary, her name is very easy to pronounce and spell - just four letters in total – Li Na.

She learns more as she drinks her coffee – that Li Na is essentially one of the biggest athletes right now – the first Chinese player to ever win a grand slam; that she won the French Open, Cosima’s favorite grand slam event, two years ago; that she made it to the quarterfinals of this year’s Wimbledon, defeating Cosima in a roller-coaster three set match in the second round. Unsurprisingly, the tennis website picked her to win against the American.

“I would stop reading that if I were you,” Felix takes her by surprise as he takes the seat in front of her to lay down two to-go cups that he was carrying. “Prediction is a fool’s errand,” and he brings up one of the cups to his lips for a sip.

“Felix,” she answers with a smile, trying to go for easy and breezy after being caught reading the article. “I was just about to call you. How have you been?”

He smirks. As a tennis player, Cosima doesn’t give anything away aside from the usual bursts of anger and frustration manifested by breaking her racket or painfully slapping herself on the thigh. But outside the tennis court, Cosima is quite an easy read – the night before the Kanepi match when she came back from her walk with a dreamy grin plastered on her face, he knew that she caught up with Delphine and they probably spent some time alone. As they watch TV that night, he decided to have a little fun with Cosima’s fast-developing crush, asking her if the gorgeous blonde will watch tomorrow’s match. “She can’t. She doesn’t get off work until Thursday,” she answered.

And that’s when he knew that they would make it to the semifinals, come hell or high water.

He doesn’t know Delphine enough to be able to figure out where the fixation is coming from, a fixation he thought to be one-sided on Cosima’s part until he saw her reading Tennis.com on her phone only a few minutes ago.

“Busy,” Felix answers the blonde, “though you would know because you’ve been reading up on Cos’ matches,” he adds with a hint of innuendo. “Here you go,” he says, not giving Delphine time to deny or explain, as he hands her an I.D. with her name on it strung to a Rogers Cup lanyard. “You’re part of Team Niehaus today,” he continues, “and you’re sitting in our box. Come on,” and he picks up the cups of coffee. Delphine takes a big gulp of her cup and wears the I.D. before following suit.

Felix leads her to a maze of tunnels and alleys that she didn’t know existed when she was here just this weekend for the charity match. They passed by the player’s locker room before taking a left, her eyes lingering on the door at the thought that Cosima is just there on the other side of the wall. She can’t explain why she wants to talk to her and wants to be around her. A few minutes later, they were climbing a flight of stairs that leads to the player’s box – a dedicated and enclosed portion of seats very near the court reserved for a player’s team, family, and friends. On the other side of the box is another player’s box that’s coming to life with animated and fast conversations in Mandarin. Felix shakes hands with one of the people in the other box before taking a seat on the edge as Delphine sits down next to him.

“Great seats, right?” And she nods as she takes the scenery in. “This is my first time watching live,” she adds. Sensing the blonde’s excitement, Felix can only nod - he’s been around tennis for so long that he rarely gets excited about a match. Nowadays, he’s more nervous when watching from the player’s box, hoping that his ward doesn’t suffer any injuries on court more than hoping for a win.

“Hey,” Sarah grumbles as she takes the seat next to Delphine. “Nice of you to join us today,” she says without looking at her.

“All set?” Felix asks and Sarah nods while Delphine observes the obvious shorthand they have with each other. The speakers come to life as the seats around the stadium gets filled by patrons, and a few silent minutes later, the announcer takes the stage to introduce the players. 

Delphine doesn’t take her eyes off Cosima when she walks on court. “I see she chose to be Darth Cosima this afternoon,” Felix says and Delphine notices the all-black ensemble the brunette chose to wear for this match. The knee socks, she noticed as the coin toss takes place, is the American’s trademark – she’s about the only active player to sport it. When Cosima faced them for a tournament photo, she couldn’t help but let out a wave - with the brunette churning out a shy side-smile at the sight before going to her bench to take off her cardigan. Delphine absently bites her lower lip at the sight of the American’s strong arms as she runs to the court to warm up with her opponent.

Unbeknownst to her, Felix is watching her intently, smiling at the thought that the attraction is clearly not one-sided and intrigued at how things will unfold. She’s clearly interested in Cosima, he thinks, but he read up on her and he found out she has a boyfriend. He didn’t have the heart to break that tidbit to Cosima – if Delphine is keeping her winning in Montreal, there’s no harm in withholding that information for now.

“Should be interesting,” he mutters and though Delphine is too caught up with Cosima on court, Sarah heard him and knows full well what he’s insinuating.

“Come on, geek,” Sarah mumbles, “show off for us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *In tennis, "bageled" means not winning a single game in a set, so termed because a bagel looks like the number 0. :)
> 
> This chapter actually ran away from me and before I knew it, it was almost at 10,000 words. So I spliced them and this week, I give you two chapters. Thank you for reading this, commenting, and leaving kudos. They really, really help keep me going. :)


	8. Sideshow Elevations Part 2

“Shite,” Sarah whispers when Cosima gets broken to 6-all when serving for the first set. She was ahead the entire time, breaking the Chinese superstar in her first service game. And with Cosima now going to a first set tiebreak, the coach can already hear the rackets hitting the DecoTurf court in a few minutes.

But no rackets were harmed in the lull that followed as Li Na asks for a trainer before the tiebreak. Cosima calmly goes to her seat, before signalling for her coach to the umpire. Sarah immediately stood up to run to the court, not even waiting for the umpire to announce it to the entire stadium. Cosima is giving her death stares as she walks to her bench and sits beside her.

“What’s on your mind, Cos?” 

“A lot,” she mumbles. “I couldn’t buy a first serve even if my life’s depended on it.”

“_What would Siobhan do?_” is the foundation of Sarah’s coaching principle because her natural response to what Cosima just said would be an agreement: _“Yes, your serve sucks,” _would be how she would eloquently phrase her reply. But remembering the Siobhan Coaching Principle, she went with something else entirely.

“You have to trust me with the serve, Cos,” she replies. “We’ve been working on that. Don’t be afraid to go for it.”

“If I go for it,” Cosima is seething in frustration now as she fixes her contact lenses, “I fucking double fault or net it.”

“Then so be it,” Sarah exclaims, “so be it. Cosima, your serve is on me – if you double fault, if you net, it’s on me. I don’t care if we lose as long as we go down trying. Trust your serve, trust me. Believe that you can pull this off – everybody in that box certainly does.” Cosima takes one sharp glance at the box: at Felix’s calm face and at Delphine, whose hands are clasped and resting on the railings as if she’s uttering a silent prayer to the tennis gods.

“Yeah, maybe I can pull this off,” she says and with a fist bump, Sarah walks back to the box as the tiebreak was about to begin.

“She’ll pull it off,” she assures Felix when she re-takes her seat.

\-----

“How does a tiebreak work?” Delphine asks Felix when the action resumes.

“First to seven leading by two points wins,” Felix lays it out simply. “If they go beyond seven, the first to lead by two points wins it.”

“So Cosima’s score - 1 to 3 is bad?”

“It’s still too soon to tell, darling,” he tries to re-assure his seatmate. Before long, there were trading court positions as the scoreboard changes to 2-4. Li Na is three points away from pocketing the first set.

“Come on, Cosima,” Delphine can hear Sarah saying underneath her breath. The tension is too much to bear - she wanted to close her eyes or get out of the stadium and just go back when the set is over. But she can’t stand up because the play is on-going.

Cosima serves and from her periphery, she can see Sarah straightening in her seat. “3-4,” the umpire says. The American scores an ace to the crowd’s delight. Delphine isn’t sure if they’re cheering to support her or they’re hooting because they’re being treated to a longer match.

The serve goes back to Cosima’s opponent. The first serve is out but the second serve was on the line as she watches the American return the ball with a cross-court shot. It would have been harder to return if it didn’t clip the net which gave Li Na time to hit the ball as she pleased. She returns it via a down the line kill and a wrong-footed Cosima can only watch as the ball dies on her side of the court. 5-3 – the Chinese player is only two points away from sealing the first set and her player's box is on their feet, clapping and cheering her on.

But a bit of luck showed up for Cosima in the next point as Li Na double faults to give her a freebie: 4-5. With the serve now on the American’s racket, she decides to go for it, serving a well-targeted puff ball that confused her opponent into shanking the return. 5-all in the tiebreak.

“Told you it’s still too soon to tell,” Felix nudges Delphine who for the first time since Cosima served for the set let out a smile.

“Not out of the woods yet,” Sarah rains on their parade. “Come on, Cosima. Trust the bloody serve.”

And as if Cosima can hear what Sarah just said, the next serve that left her racket is faster and more pointed. The player on the other side of the net can only return it with outstretched hands resulting to a high looper. Cosima quickly gets to position on the forecourt and waits for the ball to bounce once before smashing it to the other side of the court. 6-5.

Delphine watches Cosima as she turns her back from her opponent to exhale and pump herself up by jogging in place while muttering something unintelligible with a closed fist. By the time she stood to wait for Li Na’s serve, Delphine can sense that half the battle has been won – that whatever Sarah said during the timeout clearly worked because by hook or by crook, Cosima wants to end the first set at the next point.

“I can’t lose while she watches,” Cosima says –repeating once more what she has been telling herself over and over again during the tiebreak. With all her concentration, she returns the serve with a cross-court shot and Li returns it in the same way. She repeats her return, so did her opponent. A few similar exchanges later, Cosima noticed a slight change in her opponent’s racket face – _she’s going for a drop shot_ \- and when she did, Cosima runs as fast she could to the net, essentially sliding on the hard court to catch the ball. The ball clears the net, landing on the opponent’s forecourt. Cat-like quickness enabled Li to scoop it but fueled by pure instinct, Cosima guessed the return direction and hits a high backhand, resulting to an error - Li’s return goes into the net.

“Game and first set, Niehaus. 7-6 and 7-5 on tiebreak.”

\-----

Cosima’s opponent went on to lose five straight games in the second set - dazed at the blur of motion, movement, and winners that the American has thrown her way in the past half hour. She managed to win a game before Cosima put her out of her misery by serving and winning the match 7-6, 6-1. The American beams when the score line was announced, clapping with her hand and tennis racket as she turns to face all four sides of the stadium to thank the audience. She taps her heart with a closed fist when she faced her box and after a customary but warm handshake between the two players, Cosima was escorted for a short on-court interview.

“Cosima, well done,” the interviewer began. “What was going through your mind when you were down 3-5 in the breaker?”

“_I can’t lose while she watches,_” Cosima thinks but went on to say, “That if I lose the first set I can try again in the second. That I should never give up on trying...” The crowd expresses their approval with a round of applause.

“You certainly tried and never gave up. You’ve been doing so well here in Montreal – defeating two former number ones on the way to your first ever Rogers Cup Final. Tell us what is it about the city that brings out your best performance to date?”

“_Delphine Cormier,_” she thought again and smiled. “I guess it’s the energy, the crowd, and the city’s vibe. It makes me want to stay longer actually,” at least she was honest about that last bit.

“You’re facing either Aga Radwanska or Serena Williams next,” the interviewer quips, “can you tell us a little about these two amazing ladies?”

“Well, Aga’s smart and sharp. It’s both a thing of beauty and torture whenever I play her. And Serena is Serena. I think you’re in for a treat this evening and I’m just happy that me and Li warmed you up nice and good for that,” the audience laps it up and Cosima gives one of her charming smiles as the interview ends.

In the tunnels leading to the locker room, a victorious Cosima is welcomed by her team. “Thank you,” she manages to say to Sarah when she came in for a hug, “the serve was on you.” Felix fuzzes over her, handing her the protein drink from the gym bag and urging her to cool down then eat.

When she came face to face with Delphine, she couldn’t help but take in the sight before her. _“How can someone be so ethereally beautiful?”_ She asks herself as she receives cheek kisses. “So, you had fun?”

“Fun, yes,” the blonde replies, “but I was on the edge of my seat for the better part of the match,” she adds.

“Get used to it, blondie,” Felix chirps, “that was just the rollercoaster’s first dip.”

They only offered weak nods as acknowledgment for his comment. “I don’t know where we go from here,” Delphine admits, unaware of the protocol after a match. “Can we have dinner after or do you have to be here?”

Cosima’s heart flutters with excitement at the blonde’s words. “I have to be here for a bit to cool down, for a massage and treatment, food, press conference,” she says - her hands gesticulating wildly as she explains. “You can hang out with Sarah for a bit while she watches the second match. I’ll come by the box when I’m all done. Would that be okay?” _Please say it’s okay_, she thinks.

“Sure,” Delphine answers. “It’ll be nice to watch a tennis match where I’m not nervously rooting for anybody,” and with those words, Sarah motions for Delphine to follow her as Cosima says an “I’ll see you in a bit.”

\-----

She’s in the cool down area, walking on a treadmill when Felix comes back with a plate of pasta and another glass of protein shake. She smiles at him, a thank you for the gesture, but Felix had other ideas.

“I see what you’re doing,” he says with a smirk and crossed arms.

“Cooling down,” Cosima says with an amused but confused look. “Anybody can see what I’m doing.”

“If you go on being a smart ass,” Felix retorts, “I won’t tell you what I found out about our new friend, the blonde,” and he cocks an eyebrow to emphasize his playful threat.

“What about her?” Cosima asks, trying to seem unaffected, but clearly interested as she stops the treadmill to give Felix her full attention.

“Oh, so you wouldn’t be interested to know that she’s been reading Tennis.com at the cafe this afternoon?”

“That’s hardly information,” Cosima says with a tinge of disappointment before continuing her brisk treadmill walk. “Of course she’s curious about tennis – she’s going to watch a match. I’m sure she’s just trying to be polite.”

“Ah,” Felix sounds off, “curious would be reading an article on Serena or Roger or Rafa. She wasn’t reading any of those - she was reading your match predictions. And she looked worried when I reached her. Then I saw that they predicted you to lose and that’s when I knew what she was worried about. Plus she has that tournament app on her phone. Guess who she favorited?”

Cosima gets off the treadmill and looks at Felix intently. “You think I should talk to her about it? Ask her out on a date-date?” In the days after the exhibition match, she couldn’t help herself from continuing talking to Delphine even if all the signs point to her being straight. What Felix shared with her just now boosted her hopes that maybe she has a shot with the blonde.

Clearly that was not the response Felix was fishing for though – he was hoping for a _“cut it out, Felix,”_ coupled with a persistent blush which would give him an opening to mercilessly tease her. He wasn’t aiming to set her up for heartbreak, especially in the midst of a career breakthrough, so he changed course.

“I’m saying she’s interested too. Keep talking to her and maybe it’ll go somewhere,” Felix thinks that that was a sensible response. “Think of it as a 24-shot rally - the timing for The Shot has to be perfect. You should know that.”

Cosima has an impish smile as she grabs the glass that her physio had set on the table beside them. “So ask her out in the off season then?” She asks before taking a forkful of pasta. Felix can only nod and hope that timing would be on his friend’s side come the off season.

\-----

Delphine was a bit worried about what she could talk about with Sarah as she waits for Cosima to finish with her commitments after the match. An hour or so had passed since they met up in the tunnels and as it turns out, she had nothing to worry about since Sarah’s undivided attention is currently on the second match of the day.

“We were just the opening act,” Cosima’s coach mused when they took their seats outside but still near the player box seats they had earlier. “This is the main attraction,” she added, pointing to a packed stadium before producing a pen and notepad from her pockets to take notes.

Even if she snooped on her notes, Delphine wouldn’t understand any of the scribbles. Sarah’s notes are essentially two drawings of a makeshift tennis court with dots and numbers. “The really rich ones,” Sarah scoffs when she caught her looking, “do not even have to do this. They just buy the data from a think-tank who specializes in tennis. And voila, they can make a customized game-plan for a match. Me,” and she looks at her, “I like it old school,” and she jots down a number on one part of the paper when the smaller player lands a well-placed shot behind her opponent.

“Maybe a tablet can work too,” Delphine replies pointing to Sarah’s notes before watching the exchange in shots that’s happening several rows in front of her. Sarah didn’t even reply to what she said choosing instead to record Serena’s serve speed and direction on another notepad leaf. She was about to ask why Sarah isn’t recording the other player’s serve details when Cosima shows up near them.

“I’m good to go,” she says as she sits on the stairs near the aisle seat beside Delphine. “Unless you want to finish the match of course,” she adds, “that’ll be totally cool.”

“Non,” and she was collecting her coat and getting ready to leave when Cosima stopped her by touching her arm.

“After this game,” she says with a smile. And as the game progresses, Delphine couldn’t explain the shivers that came with the brunette’s touch.

\----

“Are you sure Sarah won’t mind you taking off?” Delphine asks Cosima when they finally got out of their seats and began to walk towards her car.

“Sure I’m sure,” Cosima answers. “I get a day off from crazy tomorrow and as much as I love Sarah, I’m not going to spend the night recording winners and errors with her.”

“So where do you want to go?” And Delphine unlocks the car from a few meters away.

“I don’t know, you’re the local,” Cosima says with a chuckle. “Why don’t you bring me to your favorite part of your hometown? That’s my third question by the way, so you have to be really honest – none of those tourist traps.”

“Seriously?” Delphine asks as she starts the car and Cosima buckles up.

“Yeah,” Cosima nods. “I don’t have much time left here and I want to see Montreal through your eyes.”

“Okay,” and the blonde pulls out of the parking lot. The drive was filled with animated chatter about cities they’ve been in and the complications that their chosen careers come with. Cosima was in the middle of talking about how a low-cost airline fucked up her sports equipment on the way to a tournament in Uzbekistan when Delphine exited the highway to head to a quieter part of the city. Cosima didn’t even notice that they’ve already been driving close to an hour.

“You’re taking me to the suburbs?” She teases the blonde.

“Well, a little bit out of Montreal to be honest,” Delphine replies. “My house is my favorite part of this place. So it is like hitting two birds with one stone – dinner as a thank you for inviting me to watch, and to answer your third question. But first,” and she makes a left, “supplies”.

They arrive in a well-lit grocery store where they park close to the doors. They walk inside and Delphine takes a basket as Cosima happily follows her while trying to remember the last time she did something as mundane as grocery shopping. She couldn’t even remember, she concedes – it’s probably before preseason training started last year.

“What do you want to eat?” Delphine asks, yanking her out of her thoughts.

“That is a question with many answers,” Cosima quips, “but I’d kill for an Eskimo Pie right now.”

“We can check if they have it here,” the taller woman answers - she made sure to search what it is when the American mentioned it in her last email.

“I’m useless in the kitchen,” Cosima concedes, “unless I’m making instant ramen or pasta. So I’ll let you decide.” Delphine nods then heads to the produce section to grab some ingredients for a simple tomato soup. The bread aisle is their next stop where she gets a loaf of multigrain bread. Right next to it are the cheeses – Delphine grabs Manchego, smoked cheddar, and Gouda.

“I like where you’re going,” Cosima says as they head for the ice cream section, “tomato soup and grilled cheese - my kind of comfort food.” The smile disappears from her face when she couldn’t find an Eskimo Pie in the freezers.

“Do you get to visit L.A. for work?” Cosima asks as they pay for their food at the check-out counter.

“A lot lately,” Delphine answers, making sure she draws out money for groceries before Cosima can even hand in a credit card. “I was just there a few weeks ago for some auditions.”

“The next time you’re there, around October or November, let me know,” Cosima says. “Maybe I can tour you around San Fran – it’s a short plane ride or an interesting six hours of driving away.”

“Okay,” Delphine replies, “one day,” and she looks at Cosima as if trying to tell her that she’s going to seriously consider her offer.

Armed with their groceries, they go back to the car. Delphine makes two rights before turning left to what looks like a dead end. They were driving towards the river, Cosima notices, when a garage door automatically opened and Delphine turned to park.

“Wow,” Cosima says as she walks out of the garage to stand at the edge of the road. “Now I get why this is your favorite...”

Delphine had locked the car to go where the brunette is standing. “Those twinkling lights...” and she points towards the horizon, “is Montreal.” She lets Cosima see Montreal through her eyes, glancing at how the lights seem to dance on the brunette’s glasses. "She looks better with them," she remembers the words she said when she first saw the tennis player's photos - the image before her reinforcing that first impression. 

“Make yourself at home,” she says when they finally head in. Cosima removes her coat and walks the short hallway before coming down a few flights of stairs that leads to the living room. She puts her coat on the gray leather sofa as she sees Delphine disappearing to the kitchen. She takes a load off, picking up a magazine and scanning it from the first to the last page before deciding to walk around the space to take in the personal touches adorning the room. There is a huge framed batik painting on top of the fireplace; Balinese masks in various colors and sizes –the blue one in the middle reminding her of The Great Gatsby; and a display case with some awards and photos.

Her gaze shifts to the photos. There weren’t many, she counted five framed photos – one of Delphine and her mom, she presumes; another of her with someone who looks like her dad; a couple of childhood photos; and a photo of what looks like an old apartment.

“That’s my first apartment,” Delphine says, startling Cosima a little. “I roomed with three other girls in a one-bedroom. Tell me what you think of me basing only on the photos? And that’s my question by the way.”

Cosima smiles as she pulls a chair from the dining table near the kitchen. “Only child,” she started. “Parents are divorced,” she continued. “Hella successful – I mean from a one-bedroom to this,” and she swirls her fingers all around Delphine’s open concept first floor. “I think your parents are very proud of you.”

“I’ve never met anyone like you,” Delphine lets out, unable to stop herself from voicing out her inner thought. She was about to explain more even if she herself do not understand the hold that Cosima has on her, when something dings from the kitchen. She reluctantly leaves the brunette in the dining area to tend to their dinner.

In the kitchen, she stirs the pot and gives the soup a taste before adding a pinch of salt. "You need some help?" Cosima asks when she stepped foot on the kitchen.

“Can you hand me a couple of bowls from that cupboard above you?” And she does as she’s told while also grabbing a plate for the sandwiches.

“I was thinking we can eat outside for the view, but if you don’t like that...”

“I’d like that,” Cosima says as Delphine’s turns to face her with a couple of bowls of tomato soup.

They settle outside, facing the river and sitting on red wooden patio chairs as they take in the sights of Montreal lighting up in every minute that passes. Cosima and Delphine relish the comfortable quiet as they dig in on their dinner, taking glances at each other when they thought the other isn’t looking.

“This is nice,” Cosima says breaking the silence when her gaze met Delphine’s.

“Oui,” she agrees, “this is nice indeed.”

“So when are you leaving for New York?” Cosima asks before taking a spoonful of soup.

“Saturday,” Delphine answers, “the first flight out.” She notices a smidgen of tomato on the side of the brunette’s lips and without thinking proceeds to remove it with her thumb. Cosima tries to not lean in to the touch. “I wish I could stay to watch you play,” she adds.

“I’ll be in New York around late August and hopefully up until early September,” Cosima supplies, “I was thinking if I could watch your play...”

“I was just thinking the same thing,” Delphine interrupts excitedly which caught her off-guard. “To return the favor for today,” she adds in a more subdued tone, “I’d like for you to be there.”

“Okay,” Cosima says with a nod, “then I’ll be there. I promise.”

Delphine gives out a shy smile as they continued with their meal. She meant what she said – she’d want Cosima to be there. She’d like to get to know her better. She’d love to spend more time with her. She can’t explain why, but that’s what she wants - no rhyme, no reason.

They were mostly quiet as they watch the lights from the other side of the river get brighter and brighter. And if only they can read each other’s minds, they would realize that wanting to see each other again is not the only thing they're both thinking about. They’re also essentially wishing for the same thing – to have the ability to stop time so they can stretch out their last day together in Montreal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Cue end of slow burn :). Things will begin to heat up in the next chapter.
> 
> Thank you again for all the support. Let me know what works for you and what didn't by leaving a comment. See you next week! :)


	9. Breakthrough: New York, U.S. Open 2013

**August 25, 2013 - Two Days Before the First Round**

It had been 15 days since Cosima has last seen Delphine - 15 long days of winning and losing matches in three different tournaments, morning practices and drills, checking in and out of hotels, and hopping on and off airplanes and cars. It had been 15 days...but whenever she’s alone in her room, all she could think about is her. 15 days, 24 email replies, and eight questions left – but the biggest question in Cosima’s mind and heart had already been settled that night in Montreal.

_“Are you falling in love with her?”_ She mentally asked herself in Delphine’s bathroom. 

“I’m afraid I am...” She answered her own question immediately and quietly as she washed her hands and fixed her eyeliner. She needed only five days to figure it out.

On the drive back to the Fairmont Hotel, Cosima urged her to talk about the play she would be in, scared that she won’t be able to stop herself from saying how she feels now that she had acknowledged it if she continued speaking. Delphine’s play, Cosima learned, is written by her friend Océane. It’s called Sandwich Board and it tells the story of Charlie, a writer suffering from writer’s block who one day woke up to a world where everybody is wearing sandwich boards.

“Charlie’s the only one who can see them,” she explained, “and as the day progresses she figured out that the sandwich boards contain two contrasting statements about a person: one is the truth, the other is a lie. It’s up to Charlie to figure out which is which as she encounters people – some random and some more important than others - in her daily life.” She remembered smiling as Delphine talked, noticing that like her, the blonde likes to talk with her hands.

“Huh, that’s interesting,” Cosima exclaimed because it really is. “How does it end? And that’s my question.”

“Oh no, no,” Delphine playfully answered complete with a finger wag. “You can’t question your way into this. Plus, if I answer you might not watch,” and she gave her a quick glance that came with a shy smile.

“Alright, alright,” she conceded. “I’ll re-phrase the question. If you were Charlie -”

“But I am Charlie,” Delphine asserted with a sly grin while she navigated in and around expressway traffic.

“Method,” Cosima quipped, “I like that. But if you have that ability, what would your sandwich board say?”

“Hmm,” the actor drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, “in the spirit of the play, I would only answer if you have to figure out what’s true and what’s not, no questions asked. Deal?” And Cosima agreed. “Okay,” she continued, “one would say – ‘I’m living the dream’, and the other would say – ‘Something’s missing’. How about you? What would yours say?”And traffic began to free up.

“_I’m in love and I don’t want to be in love,_” she wanted to say if she was really being honest. But the blonde didn't cash one of her question chips so it didn't require an honest answer. Instead she said: “one would say, ‘I want to win’ the other would be ‘I’m afraid to win’.” The answer she settled with was true enough as well.

The collective memory of that night by the river has been Cosima’s comfort zone in the stressful days and pressure-packed matches that followed. Win or lose, she can taste a hint of the tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwich every meal after a match. The pair of hazel eyes that are more captivating than downtown Montreal’s light show is what she saw in defeat - the image lingering in her thoughts that weekend when Serena lifted the bigger trophy after winning against her 6-3, 7-6 (7-4 in the breaker), and a week later when she lost in the Cincinnati quarterfinals to Aga Radwanska. The vision gave her hope – as if it’s the personification of the figurative light at the end of the tunnel that she’d reach if only she’s brave enough to walk through the uncertainties.

Oddly, Delphine’s eyes are also what she saw in victory yesterday at New Haven when she won her fourth title of the year, a convincing 6-2, 6-2 defeat of Petra Kvitova - the 9th seed and the 2011 Wimbledon Champion. The cameras were on her as she clutched the delicate crystal trophy and before she knew it, she wasn’t in Connecticut anymore. She’s back in Delphine’s backyard - drinking tea after dinner wondering if the blonde’s eyes are brown or green while the river gets illuminated by the lights of boats and nearby buildings.

The doors to the Flea Theater’s smallest auditorium finally burst open 30 minutes before the show, pulling Cosima out of the memory of how she tried not to stare when Delphine freed her hair from the bun after dinner. Her being here now is a surprise – as far as the blonde knows, the only free time she has to watch would be after the U.S. Open during the last two weeks of the play’s run. But as much as their email conversations have become more personal and free-flowing, it wasn’t enough. She couldn’t wait another week or two to see Delphine again.

The auditorium is about the size of a tennis court with only 40 or so chairs neatly lined up in three rows in front of the raised stage. The intimacy of the space leaves both actors and audience with nowhere to hide once the door closes and the performance starts. Cosima takes a seat in the last row near the aisle leading to the exit before looking at the time on her phone. There’s still 15 minutes before the play starts and she’s tingling in anticipation.

\-----

In the days since she first watched Cosima live, Delphine has found several tennis websites that have better articles and coverage about her and tennis in general. One of those new online discoveries currently has a special U.S. Open article that has a seed report and a bunch of other predictions based on a player’s history and recent performances. It got published less than an hour before the show starts while she was doing final touches on her own hair and makeup.

She found out recently that this is the first time that Cosima is coming into a grand slam as a seeded player – the final in Montreal and her championship in Connecticut yesterday propelled her into the Top 20 for the first time in her career. She downplayed it in her emails, but she can sense that Cosima is proud of what she has achieved so far. Reading more about grand slam tennis since she arrived in New York, she found out that being seeded meant that the American won’t be facing any high ranking player until the fourth round. Wrapping up her preparations quickly, she scrolls down to the women’s section of the article and went to the “Seeds 17-32” portion.

  1. _ Cosima Niehaus (USA):_ _“America’s lost tennis prodigy” finally makes her long-overdue debut as a seeded player in a grand slam. An underground sensation, she has been finding her way and footing in the pro tour this year - pocketing four titles (New Haven being the newest addition) in three months (impressive). New York loves an underdog and chances are they’ll fall in love with Niehaus after this tournament. _

“It’s easy to fall in love with her,” she says with a sure smile after reading it. The second those words fall out of her lips though, Delphine carefully looked at herself in the mirror - as if asking herself what lies beneath that statement.

“20 minutes,” the set designer-slash-costume designer says from the other side of the door, snapping her out of her thoughts. She gets up from her seat but not before taking one more glance at her messages, tapping on Cosima’s name in her inbox, hoping to get a new message and disappointed when there's none.

Her mind during the last cast meeting before the show starts is on the thought that Cosima is still probably driving to New York from Connecticut with Sarah and Felix. Between the play and her tournament, the soonest they can see each other again is next week when she finally gets some free time to watch her match in Flushing Meadows. While she wants for them to meet sooner, she knows that seeing her sooner than planned equates to catastrophe – it would mean that the brunette had lost in the earlier rounds. She can hang on a few more days of just texting and emails even if they’re in the same city, she thinks, if it means Cosima’s doing well in the tournament.

Before long, they are being ushered in to their places for the first act. “_It’s easy to fall in love with her,_” her mind refusing to put down what she said in the dressing room. She bites her bottom lip as she simmers in confusion. She is relieved that she has finally expressed in words the emotional subtext behind all the texts and emails these past weeks. At the same time, she's even more confused about where all these will lead to.

The lights turn on and that’s her cue to enter the stage. The play has just started its second week run and so far, it has been great. She enjoys the intimate interaction that the play manages to develop with the audience performance after performance, which is quite reminiscent of the plays she did back in conservatory. The good reviews are just the icing on the cake – and a necessity to keep Aldous out of her hair.

It was 10 minutes into the act - in the scene where she’s front and center, sitting in front of a typewriter with a cigarette in hand and asking the audience for writing prompts - when she saw her, sitting on the farthest left at the third row with a mischievous grin and eyes bathed in curiosity and warmth. Cosima gave her a tiny wave while her arms are crossed over her chest and Delphine couldn’t help but let out a laugh - a mixture of bewilderment, happiness, and relief. Despite the welcome distraction, she found a way to make it work, adlibbing her way in to the next scene.

She exits the stage and stays on the sidelines where she has an almost unobstructed view of the cheeky and sneaky brunette. She should be backstage, having her last drink of water or talking with the other actors. But she stays put, watching Cosima looking at the stage, rapt. She smiles at the image and as the smile grows, the confusion Delphine held onto quickly dissipates.

“It’s easy to fall in love with her,” she utters again. Suddenly things were perfectly clear and it scared her.

\-----

Cosima is on her feet like everyone else in the audience as the curtains close and the music plays. The cast gets introduced, receiving warm rounds of applause from a full-packed auditorium. But the loudest and most passionate approvals have been reserved for Delphine who is now back on stage and bowing with the cast and crew. Cosima noticed that the entire front row is essentially occupied by Totentanz fans, who gave the loudest and most enthusiastic cheers when she re-emerged. In the midst of all these, she locks eyes with Delphine who smiles at her. “Wait,” the blonde mouths and she nods. 

She sits down as the fans go to the stage to ask for photos and autographs, taking the chance to look at her phone to reply to Sarah about their practice schedules. Along with Sarah’s messages, there was also an email from Rachel, something about a meeting with her while she’s here in New York. “Suddenly making time for me,” she scoffs as she moves on to another email from the USTA.

“Hi!” And there she is in front of her – quiet smile, blonde curls, cute little beauty marks, hazel eyes, denim jeans, gray round-neck shirt. Cosima can feel her heart skip a beat at the sight.

“Surprise!?!” She says as she stands up to give Delphine a hug, trying not to smell her hair but ultimately failing. Another wave of memories to be played is stored in her brain – the lavender shampoo, the blonde’s perfume.

“Yes,” Delphine says, the conversation continuing with Cosima in her arms. “I thought you’re still travelling from Connecticut.”

Cosima lets go of Delphine but keeps her hands on her arms. “I may have badgered Sarah and Felix into driving straight to New York yesterday after the tournament,” she supplies as her hands rub the blonde’s arms.

“And how would you pay for that insolence?” Delphine jokes. Through the course of their email exchanges, she has gotten a glimpse of how Team Niehaus works – that Sarah is in charge of match preparations and scouting, and Felix calls the shots during recovery. But Cosima is still the boss which means everything – from practice times, to what goes into her body, to where they train – is negotiable, as long as she offers a worthwhile compromise.

“A 6 A.M. practice tomorrow,” Cosima grumbles. The messages and emails have also given them a picture of how they go about their daily lives. Delphine knows that Cosima will always prefer a late morning to early afternoon practice over an all-morning practice. “It’s one of the first things I do after the season,” the American said when she asked her to describe a typical day without tennis. “I sleep late - reading books, watching TV. And I wake up around 1 p.m. the next day to do it all over again.”

On the other hand, Cosima knows that although Delphine is not averse to sleeping in, she usually prefers an early start to her day. “The night owl and the morning person…We make quite a pair,” Delphine remembers Cosima joking in one of their exchanges. And the minute Delphine read it she was treated to an imagining of a day where she makes lunch while Cosima sleeps in the bed…In her bed.

“But it’s totally worth it,” Cosima says now, “I really wanted to be here.”

She was about to say how much she looked forward to seeing her again, to talking to her again in person, when a group of fans made their way to where they are. Cosima steps back, letting Delphine interact with the group and when they got their photos, they moved along, but not before one of them shot back at her.

“Hey, good luck in the U.S. Open,” a fan sporting pink hair and a The Cure t-shirt said with a wink. A bit surprised to be recognized in this neck of the woods, she managed to say a cheery “thanks” with a wink. And in return, the fan gives her a sweeping look punctuated by a not-so-subtle wetting of the lips. Delphine caught sight of the interaction in the middle of talking with the fans. She couldn’t explain the pinch of irritation she feels – the brunette doesn’t mind the fan clearly coming on to her, and why would she? Cosima is beautiful, witty, and adorable and Delphine is sure that she gets the same kind of attention in every city with a tennis tournament.

As The Cure further separates herself from her friends to have more one-on-one time with Cosima, Delphine puts an arm around the brunette’s and whispers, “come, I’ll introduce you backstage then we can leave.” Cosima didn’t need to be told twice as she grabs her coat before waving goodbye to the pink-haired girl. And as they make their way backstage, Delphine couldn’t explain why she’s acting like a jealous girlfriend all of a sudden. 

\-----

“So where are we going?” Cosima asks as she and Delphine leave the theater through the back exit.

“You have an early start tomorrow,” Delphine says, “we can just eat at my place – it’s about five minutes away. Have pizza delivered or something healthier.”

“Pizza sounds good,” Cosima quickly answers. She figures that whatever she eats tonight she will just burn off tomorrow during Sarah and Felix’s tailor-fitted, personal morning hell masquerading as a practice session. “Lead the way,” she says with a smile and they start walking.

“So what do you think?” Delphine asks, “And that’s my question, so tell me if it sucks.” During the drive back to Cosima’s hotel in Montreal that night, Delphine successfully argued her way into having her question privileges reinstated until they see each other. After this question, she’ll have five left to burn before dinner ends.

“It was awesome,” Cosima answers as they turn left, “definitely unique. It made me laugh and it made me think too. And you were great. I mean, I’ve obviously watched your show and you’re already great there. But live, with nowhere to hide, doesn’t even compare.” And they reach the building’s lobby and wait for an elevator.

“You really think so?” Delphine asks and the elevator dings open. They were climbing to the 27th floor before Cosima answered.

“Are you kidding me? You’re enchanting…and so talented,” and there it is again - that look the brunette gives her with eyes that never ogle but seems to want to see her entire being, her dreams, her thoughts, her emotions. It’s a look so different from how she regarded that fan back in the theater. It’s a look that makes her feel as if she always has something fascinating and interesting to offer. It’s this look that Delphine plays in her mind in the weeks since that night at her house, imagining what it would be like if she lets the cheeky American tennis player in to her life.

The elevator opens again and they walk towards a door marked _27C_. The whole studio is only a bit bigger than Delphine’s living room in Montreal, Cosima observes. It’s well-decorated, if a bit business-like and bland, but it didn’t scrimp on the windows and furnishings. She takes a seat on the pull-out blue couch while Delphine orders pizza for them.

“Just water for you, non?” She asks as she puts a coaster on the table while holding a glass of red wine.

“I would really like some wine,” she answers. “I think I deserve it after New Haven and driving here right after.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” the blonde proposes, “you can have a glass of wine – just a glass. But I get question privileges until you’re here in New York. Deal?”

“Sure,” and Cosima beams, “make it a tall glass then.”

Delphine comes back with wine for Cosima, unsure if it’s wise to be giving her alcohol two days before her first round match. “Don’t worry,” the American on her couch said as if she can read her thoughts, “one glass won’t hurt,” and she hands it to her.

The food arrived on Cosima’s second sip. Delphine considerately ordered two pizzas – a gluten-free variant and a meat lover’s pizza with extra cheese. “Might as well get a slice,” Delphine says while pointing to the more sinful pizza, “to go with your contraband wine,” and Cosima gets a piece, agreeing with the blonde’s logic.

Sitting comfortably on the couch as soft, instrumental music plays from the stereo, Delphine talked more about the play and the other jobs lined up for her in the coming months. Cosima listens, interjecting every once in a while about where she would be after New York, but for the better part of the conversation, her eyes wander around the apartment - unable to fix her gaze at the blonde because in such close proximity, she just might not be able to help herself from crossing the point of no return.

In her wandering, her eyes landed on a black acoustic guitar resting on a wall near the lamp. “Is that yours?” Cosima asks as she stands up to retrieve it.

“No,” Delphine answers, “it was already there when I got here,” and Cosima returns on the couch with the guitar.

“Dude, I wish I can play,” she confesses while faux-strumming the strings of the guitar on her lap. “I swear when all this is over I’m going to learn.”

“It’s actually easy – you can teach yourself in your own free time,” Delphine muses before refilling her glass with the bottle on the table.

“Do you play?” Cosima asks, eyes glinting with excitement.

“I only know one song,” her reply sounded more like a whisper and was followed by a generous gulp.

“Would you play it?” The brunette enthusiastically asks, and the blonde shakes her head meekly. “Please?!? I’ll give you your questions until the end of the year,” she offers along with the guitar. Delphine wordlessly accepts the instrument and tunes it quickly. She strums a few loose notes before giving an attentive Cosima tentative looks.

She begins to finger-pick a familiar melody that transported Cosima back to Sunday afternoon car rides after a tournament with her parents. “Blackbird singing in the dead of night…Take these broken wings and learn to fly…All your life,” Delphine continues to sing, but her voice slightly breaks when she sang this line and the lyrics that followed. “You were only waiting for this moment to arise…Blackbird singing in the dead of night…Take these sunken eyes and learn to see...”

“Why this song?” Cosima asks as Delphine continued to pluck away at the chords. The actor didn’t answer but a slight shift in her posture gave Cosima a glimpse of the few teardrops falling from her eyes.

At that point, Cosima’s concern about Delphine instantly outweighs all her curiosities. She takes the guitar by the fret board, putting an end to the song, and leans it on the table with the pizzas. Delphine is trying to prevent her sobs by covering her mouth with her hand and although she doesn’t understand, Cosima does the only thing she can think of doing – comfort Delphine with a hug.

“It’s my Papa’s favorite,” Delphine answers, her voice muffled by Cosima’s shoulder. “It’s been a while since I sang it. I used to play it for him many times,” she adds, “first in the hospital then in the hospice…”

Cosima wanted to kick herself senseless for what she’d done. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know…” And she began to remember what Delphine said about her parents in their emails. _“Papa was a frustrated musician…” “Papa was a good man, but complicated, if a bit selfish...”_

“_Was,”_ she thought as she soothes and runs her hand on Delphine’s back. She always talked about him in the past tense…How come she didn’t notice it until now? 

She can feel Delphine’s breath on her neck as she cradles her in her arms, wishing that she can take away and carry even a sliver of the pain and sadness that came with the memory of the song. Cosima looks into Delphine’s face when she lets go – eyes wet, cheeks red, and hair mussed. She meant to only tuck the loose blonde curls behind her ears, but then her hand slipped from Delphine’s hair to the back of her neck.

When that happened, she knew there was no going back.

And before Cosima can stop - before she can let her mind reel in her wildly-beating heart – she comes in for a kiss. She doesn’t know what’s more surprising – her boldness or the fact that Delphine is kissing her back. Her ears are getting tickled by their soft moans which made her hold on to Delphine tighter, the hand cradling the back of the blonde’s neck grasping firmer. As the kiss deepens, Cosima arrives at the conclusion that there is no kiss that she has given or received before that can hold a candle to the sensation of the blonde’s lips on hers now.

For minutes that could have lasted a lifetime, it felt so good and it felt so right...until Delphine cupped her face to pull away from her. When Cosima opened her eyes, she sees Delphine with that familiar look – the _“What the fuck did I just do?” _look that a few straight girls in college gave her during drunken make out sessions and in hungover morning-afters. “_Was she just vulnerable and tipsy?_” Cosima thought. “I’m sorry, I…just made a terrible mistake, didn’t I?” and before Delphine can answer, she stood up to quickly grab and wear her red coat in panic.

“Cosima…” Delphine gently calls out from behind her as she stood by the door. Cosima couldn’t even bear to look back, afraid of how she would react once the blonde completely shuts her down. “I have to go,” she mumbled to the door, her hands trying to keep pace with the whirling thoughts in her head, “early day tomorrow, hell and all…” and she twists the knob and walked away, leaving Delphine alone in her studio.

Cosima managed to immediately flag a cab to go back to her hotel, a little disappointed that the blonde didn’t follow her as she makes a run for it. Amidst the traffic of the commute from Tribeca to Manhattan and the confusion that she saw on Delphine’s face when they stopped kissing, Cosima couldn’t help herself from running the pads of her fingers on her lips. “She kissed me back,” she says out loud without meaning to which caught the cabbie’s attention. She waved him off and gave him a generous tip when they reached the hotel.

She was fishing for her key card, wanting nothing more but to shut the world out while she still can when she got a hold of her phone – it’s on silent, but the green notification light blinks softly indicating a new message. She’s safely in her room when she reads it.

“_Cosima…_” was Delphine’s first message. “_I still want to see you next week at your match,_” the second text said. She scrolls down to the next message that followed. _“Do you still want me to be there? And that’s my question.” _Cosima looks at the timestamp, the last message arrived 15 minutes after the second one.

“_Of course I want you there,_” Cosima typed and sent before getting out of her coat. She followed it up with a separate text, “_I’m sorry about tonight…_” She wanted to add “_I didn’t know what came over me,_” but chose not to because she knew the reason behind the kiss. She then placed her phone on her bed, making sure that the screen is hidden and facing down, anxious about what will Delphine say next. She goes to the bathroom to wash up and change into her pajamas, all the while chastising herself for her rash actions.

There was no more delaying the inevitable when she got back to her bed as she picks up the phone again. “_Okay. I’ll be there. After your tournament we can talk about it,_” Delphine’s reply read. And as she shuts her eyes to try to go to sleep, the wave of emotions wrapping the memory of the blonde’s kiss engulf her heart and thoughts.

“There’s no taking it back now,” she says in the dark before she closes her eyes.

\-----

**September 4, 2013 - Women's Quarterfinals**

“Hello everyone. This is the press conference for Cosima Niehaus, world number 18 and quarterfinalist for this year’s U.S. Open,” the press conference moderator says as Cosima makes her way to her seat to face about 20 or so journalists and reporters. “This is an English-only interview and we will begin taking questions immediately.” As the moderator reminds the room about the Q&A do’s and don’ts, the American takes out her phone from her cardigan’s pocket. There were several new messages pouring in but she has eyes for only one sender.

_“Congratulations!”_ Delphine’s text began. _“I watched it on my phone and you were great! See you Friday :)!_” She replied with a quick _“Thanks, see you soon. ;)”, _making a mental note to send her a longer message later. They have yet to discuss the kiss and what it means, but she’s happy that they continue to talk - in fact, they’ve been talking more since that night. And as much as she wants to overthink how Delphine’s lips moved against hers and how she still gets goosebumps whenever she remembers the taste of wine on the blonde’s lips and tongue, she couldn’t – with tennis and her progress in the tournament requiring her undivided attention and single-minded focus. The tournament will be over in a few days and then they will talk about it or hopefully, kiss about it.

“Congratulations,” a sultry and familiar voice from behind her says, prompting Cosima to pocket her phone as Shay – one of the tournament physios - places a couple of towels on the empty chair beside her.

“Thanks,” she replies with a smile while also acknowledging a Bay-area reporter who took a seat up in front.

“You haven’t been in touch,” Shay discretely adds as she puts water bottles and electrolytes on the table.

“Busy,” is all Cosima can say as an excuse. While maintaining a relationship when you’re essentially living in hotels or airplanes is hard, tending to temporary desires is easier and a different story altogether. She isn’t into one-night stands, but there are times when she craves the release and when she just wants to feel wanted. Shay understands their arrangement and doesn’t demand anything after a night or two together in Melbourne, or in Rome, or in Madrid…until now, it seems.

“Well, I guess I’ll be seeing you,” and she weakly nods at that statement as she exits the interview room. Shay is a beautiful woman, a passionate and experienced lover, and she’s good company. It has been fun, she admits. But that’s just it – fun, meaningless, casual hook-ups that happen about six or eight times a year since last year. It’s not going to go any further or deeper than that.

“Cosima, hi,” a journalist who she recognized to be affiliated with The Guardian started the ball rolling while she slouches on her chair. “Congratulations for today’s win. Can you tell us more about the match and how you won it?”

“It was tough,” Cosima replies seriously as she straightens in her seat and brings the mic closer to her. “It always is with Berty. The score doesn’t tell half the story because with her, even when you’re up 5-1 you can’t let your guard down – you give her an inch of an opening and she will crawl right back to win against you. That’s how good and tenacious she is.”

Sarah made damn sure that she’s prepared for her quarterfinals match against Roberta Vinci, the world number 10 with a one-handed backhand who happens to have a career grand slam in doubles – which means she’s good at areas where she sucks. “You gotta make her run and run. You gotta make her live in the baseline,” her coach said while they were watching Berty’s fourth round match in their room two nights ago, “and you gotta open up the court faster or else she’ll beat you to it. Oi, Cosima! Are you even listening?!?” She remembers getting distracted from the video because Delphine wrote a reply to her question about her most embarrassing experience. Sarah was a bit pissed at that, but the win today surely makes up for it.

“Some have dubbed,” another reporter speaks, “your bracket to be the bracket of opportunities, especially with Wozniacki gone before the fourth round. What can you say about that?” Admittedly, the tennis gods seem to have smiled at her when the U.S. Open draw came out. They were still in New Haven when they saw it and she remembers the look on Felix’s face when it got published. “It’s just you, Wozniacki, Berty, and Vesnina,” he said, and the fact that he’s sharing the draw details with her means that they are free to be opportunistic about the U.S. Open.

“It’s a tricky draw,” she supplies, “I almost lost it in the second round against Šafářová,” and she almost did. Lucie Šafářová is somebody she used to play against when they were in juniors and even then, she’s had problems trying to solve the leftie with the high topspin forehand. She lost in the opener but she was able to adjust to clinch the second and third set. “And I think that’s what makes the tour interesting – any girl at any given match can produce an upset.” She notices the reporter following the movement of her hands as she spoke which reminded her of what Rachel told her when she watched her give an interview for the first and only time.

“Your hands,” her agent dryly said, “they move too much. You must find a way to stop it. It’s irksome.”

“This is your first time to be in the second week of a slam,” Courtney the Bay Area journalist says, saving her from worrying about her meeting with Rachel after the semifinals. “Can you tell us about the experience -”

“It’s hella nice, Courtney,” she interrupts, earning laughs from the reporters.

“Yes, but what changed? I mean can we credit this and the four titles this year to good nutrition? Better treatment? A more experienced team?”

Cosima thinks about how to answer the question. The better nutrition and physical shape all play a part, but “it goes beyond that,” she says. “I guess what’s different this year is that I am actively trying to not be too hard on myself and I'm trying to branch out. Given my history, when I turned pro I pressured myself to win every match and…honestly, I wasn’t very good company during those times. I was hard on myself and I was difficult to everyone around me. Now, I’m more relaxed. I try to be more of my true self. And branching out – making my life more than just tennis - is who I am. Somehow I think it has an effect on how I play.” She chuckles at the confused looks the reporters are giving her. “Does that even make sense?” She asks, and the confusion turned into amusement. Maybe she should have just said that Sarah and Felix spike her electrolytes with secret miracle elixirs that they stole from Novak Djokovic's spiritual guru.

“Last two questions, please,” the moderator intervenes.

“You’re one of two Americans left in the draw,” a reporter with a Bostonian accent nods to the moderator before taking the floor. “As a first timer in the second week of your home slam, how is the experience so far?”

She remembers the cheers from the crowd every time she chases after a ball and successfully scores a winner; as well as the jeers and boos that came her way when she smashed her racket in anger after losing the first set in the Šafářová match. “I’ve always loved New York,” she answers, “even as a junior I loved playing here. It’s big, loud, and opinionated – so unabashedly American. And I love it,” she says with her trademark cheeky tip-of-the-tongue-in-between-her-teeth smile.

“You said you love it here,” a reporter speaks with his unmistakable New Yorker accent, “have you had time to visit the sights in the city?”

“I have actually,” and even Cosima is surprised at her voice’s enthusiasm, “two days before the tournament I caught an off-Broadway show in Tribeca. Sandwich Board? Any of you guys heard it? It's weird and awesome.”

“Is that one of your ways of branching out? Immersing a bit in the creative arts?” The New Yorker follows up.

“You can say that,” Cosima carefully replies, not wanting to give even the slightest hint that she was there not for the play but for the actor starring in it.

“Well, I’ve seen it,” the reporter retorts with a smile, “and I think there’s no better way for you to branch out to the performing arts than hanging out with Delphine Cormier and Martial Dodin.”

Cosima’s brows furrowed a bit at the unfamiliar name attached to Delphine’s, but remembering where she is, she just nodded and offered a smile. “Thank you,” the moderator speaks in a monotonous tone signaling the end of the interview. Cosima says a hurried thanks to the reporters in the room before grabbing the towels near her chair for her ice bath.

“Martial Dodin,” she says to herself in the empty Treatment Room, typing in the name in the search bar as she shivers in the cold water. She found out that he’s a director who had a buzzy film in Sundance just a year ago. She’s heard of it and she even intended to watch it if she has the time. He’s good-looking: brown, wavy hair that matches his piercing brown eyes, a lean but muscular build, and a five o’clock shadow on his chiseled jaw. Not a poor dresser too, she thinks, and based on his interviews, he seems like an intelligent man.

She should have put the phone down after, should have put two and two together without needing to see it with her own eyes, but she didn’t. Masochistically, she modifies the search to ‘Martial Dodin Delphine Cormier’ and a minute later, there they are: smiling on a red carpet, him in a navy blue suit and she in a sleeveless maroon and black dress with their arms around each other; there they are, in a series of photos taken in an airport – Martial picking up Delphine with her luggage, a smile on his face as he hugs her; a familiar alley shows itself in the next photo, the handsome director with disheveled hair emerging with Delphine from her house by the river, the date indicates that the photo was taken just two months ago.

"How come I didn't see these before?" She asks herself. Probably because she only saw what she wanted to see, she thought. She didn't even bother reading a website that claims to have a comprehensive list of Delphine Cormier's known ex-boyfriends, knowing how averse those sites are about the veracity of their content. As a joke of sorts before, Felix showed Cosima her who's-dating-who webpage. She almost choked at the names attached to hers - most of them she just speak to at work, and a lot of them she hasn't even met yet.

The water is a little warmer when Cosima finally locks her phone after having her fill of photos. There is no need for them to talk about what happened the night of the play, she rues, now that things have been spelled out for her. When she emerges from the ice bath, she feels as if she’s crashing and tumbling down from the corners of possibilities to the depths of nothing.

“I’m such an idiot,” she mumbles as she leaves the room, feeling deflated and defeated in spite of her grand slam semifinal debut in two days. Whatever high the wins and the kiss brought this week doesn’t seem to matter in the grand scheme of things.


	10. Depths of Nothing, Part 1: Prelude to the U.S. Open 2013 Semifinals

**August 26, 2013**

One of the things Delphine likes about the New York studio is its relaxed policy against smoking. She didn’t explicitly ask the realtor about it when she showed it to her, but one look at the apartment was enough for her to realize that the person who designed and decorated the place had smoking in mind when choosing furnishings. The windows are as smoker-friendly as they can get: very easy to open and close; and big enough to let all the smoke-smell out without being dangerously wide for somebody to topple over accidentally. There is even a gray lounge chair and a small side table perfectly positioned near one of the windows so that a smoker can comfortably pair his or her cigarette with its preferred sidekick: a nice cup of coffee, hot tea, or a tall glass of wine.

The smoking nook, as what Delphine calls it, has been her favorite spot in the studio since day one. On days when she’s not on stage or when she’s not going to the New York auditions that Aldous set up for her, this is where she would be – curled up in the chair with a book, a cup of coffee, and a pack of Belmonts. The nook is so cozy that she barely used the other spaces in the studio apart from the bed and the shower...Until last night when she slept on the couch, unable to completely move away from the place where she and Cosima kissed for the first time.

The feel of the brunette’s lips and how she moved against her have been seared in Delphine’s memory almost instantly. That night, after making sure that Cosima still wanted to see her after the kiss, she hopped in to the shower and under the stream of cold water, she caressed her nape. Her gasp bounced off the tiles and she was caught off-guard – her heart beating faster, her skin immediately getting riddled with goose bumps - all because of the recent memory of the brunette’s palm touching the same spot to direct her lips to hers.

As she got comfortable on the couch after the shower, Delphine briefly considered the notion that maybe she’s over-romanticizing things because although she has had roles that require kissing another actress, kissing Cosima is the first time that she’d truly kissed a woman. But the thought was quickly quashed by the reality that the kiss felt so good physically and emotionally simply because it was Cosima. She has never met anybody like the dreadlocked American before and she couldn’t help but say that out loud when they had dinner at her house back in Montreal. The kiss felt like a precious gift that further cemented that belief.

She loved every fleeting second of Cosima’s gift – how she allowed herself to be surprised before melting into the brunette’s touch; the shaky, shallow breaths as the kiss deepens; Cosima’s creamy neck and its soapy scent, with just a hint of men’s cologne; their foreheads touching; the brunette’s impish smirk when she realized she was kissing her back; the butterflies in Delphine’s stomach when she saw that grin.

Over coffee and cigarettes in the cold light of the morning after, she can’t help but look back at the fair share of first kisses she’s had before. And while all of them are different in terms of circumstances and emotions involved, Cosima’s first kiss is a clear outlier. None of her other first kisses - even the very first one at age 14 - were as raw, open, and honest as the brunette’s. The first kisses before always seem to raise the stakes – as if it’s only a minor passage to get over and done with so that they can move on to more intimate touches. But for Delphine, Cosima’s kiss seems to have a different agenda altogether: it felt like it sought to explore, like it aimed to show her how she feels about her.

But the emotions and sensations behind the kiss - paired with a tandem of experienced lips and tongue - were what made her pull away, she muses now as she walks to the theater for the usual cast meeting. It was all so overwhelming - never has she been so aroused by a first kiss before, the awkwardness surrounding the act usually overshadowing the desire. And last night, Delphine knew she would have given in if they continued, never mind her anxiety about the fact that she’s never been with a woman before. How that would clearly show in a tempting alternate reality where she pulls Cosima to lie on top of her as she takes off her shirt and unhook her bra.

She definitely didn’t want anything to happen while Martial is still in the picture. Cosima deserves better than that. When they first started talking, she assumed that the American knew about her attachments – that though she isn’t enormously famous, anybody who Googles her name will know about her current and past relationships, no matter how much she tries to keep her personal life private. Still, Cosima didn’t ask and it never came up in any of their conversations. Delphine wondered, as she excused herself from her co-actors, if the brunette would have continued talking to her if she had made any mention of Martial.

_Is that why you never brought him up?_ A voice in her head asked. _Because you wanted to keep talking to her? Because you want to seem available?_

“You seem confused,” Océane says as she joins her on her cigarette break.

“Pardon?” Delphine answers as she lights another stick, spending the break from the cast meeting by chain smoking in a narrow alley by the theater where she can peacefully remember how she ran her fingers through Cosima’s dreads last night.

“I said you seem confused,” her friend repeats herself, “which is good if I’m just a playwright because it means you’ll do awesome as always later...not so much when you’re also my friend. So out with it, Cormier,” and she produces a lighter from her pocket to light her stick.

Delphine watches Océane as the amber ember of her cigarette glowed with every puff. “I kissed someone else last night,” she lets out along with an exhale of smoke.

“Cosima?” She guesses casually and Delphine simply nods as she puts the cigarette back between her lips. Cosima seems to have made a good impression on her friend yesterday after the show, grinning as she enthused about her favorite scenes backstage. “I like her,” she remembered Océane telling her in murmured French which made her smile. “It’s easy to like her,” Delphine replied before she moved on to introduce Cosima to her cast mates.

“Judging from the way you look today,” her friend continues now, “you don’t seem hungover so we can rule out alcohol as the reason.”

“I think there’s something there...” Delphine says, intending to clarify that this is not a passing fixation. “I don’t exactly know what it is. But it’s something that’s not there with Martial anymore...” _‘Has never been there,’ _if Delphine is being really honest.

“Then what’s stopping you?” Océane presses. “Don’t tell me it’s because she’s a woman...”

“Non, of course not...As my friend, you sometimes forget that I’m not exactly the easiest person to be with,” she answers. Delphine believes with all her heart that somehow over the years, she has mastered the art of creating the illusion of closeness with her lovers - when the reality is that she’s keeping them at arm’s length. She’s also pretty certain that four serious ex-boyfriends can attest to this.

Which is why Cosima – the incessant need to answer all her questions and for Delphine’s own questions to be answered - is a riddle to her. Instead of pulling away like she’d usually do, Delphine yearns for her - more so now that she has had a taste of her lips.

“I have news for you,” Océane says as she flicks the cigarette butt to the dumpster, “in a relationship, nobody is easy. The more you share who you are and your life with someone, the harder it gets. It’s always hard to make considerable space for someone in your life, and more difficult to give a piece of yourself over and over again and be okay with it. So yeah, relationships are hard and complicated...That’s not really news. So what’s really stopping you from telling Cosima that there’s something there?”

“Can I quote you on that?”Delphine quips in a weak attempt to change the subject. Still, her friend refuses to drop it. Delphine fiddles with her lighter, unsure if she should light another stick or just chew her lip in worry. “I don’t really know,” she finally says as she fishes for another stick from the pack. “I’m not sure what that something is...what it is that pulls me to her. I want to be sure about it before I start something.”

Océane lets out a laugh, the kind of giggly laughter one gives when they instantly get an inside joke. Delphine looks to her as she taps the ashes of her cigarette on the ground, egging her to explain her reaction. “The mere fact we’re talking about this now,” her friend says when the giggles subsided, “like less than 24 hours after you kissed – to me that means you’re already interested, you already like her. I don’t see why you shouldn’t figure things out together...Why you’re here sulking by a smelly dumpster when you can just tell her what you just told me. I don’t see why you couldn’t just let the chips fall...” And she snickers again.

Delphine can’t help but smirk - her friend has a point. But Cosima or any future that Delphine can imagine with her deserves only honesty and a clean slate. She may not be sure what it is that she really feels for the brunette, but she is sure that whatever it is, she wants it to flourish – and that can only happen if she gives it the best possible start.

\-----

**August 27, 2013**

In the nook a lit cigarette is on the window sill, resting on an ashtray that Delphine found inside a kitchen floor cabinet two days after she first arrived. Her eyes have fully adjusted to the light as she burrows on the chair – her attention not on the cigarette by the window, but on the lighter she’s absently flicking on and off, on and off. 

The brass, scuffed vintage Zippo is one of her Papa’s few earthly possessions that she now owns after he died three years ago. She remembers it vividly from her childhood – mostly the way it crisply snaps after he lights a cigarette when he takes her out to the park while Maman cooks an early dinner. For something he cherished, he almost always misplaced it - usually finding the contraption (after a frantic search) in a small wicker basket on a table near the front door where they put the house keys and loose coins.

The lighter, Delphine remembers now as she eyes it carefully, is how she first realized that he is never coming back home when she noticed that it is no longer in the basket. _“It was just there this morning,”_ six-year-old her, fresh from a classmate’s weekend birthday party, asserted. She searched the house for her parents and saw her Maman leaning on a kitchen counter - both hands over her mouth, trying to cry as quietly as possible. “Oh, I didn’t hear you come home,” she remembers her saying and as if everything is fine, she made her a cup of cocoa. She drank it with delight - blowing on the hot liquid while Maman strokes her unruly blonde hair, trying her best to show her daughter a smile.

Living without him became their new normal after that. He would visit her every once in a while - take her out to the park or to a diner for a slice of cheesecake or ice cream, always with the lighter and a cigarette. She never asked him where he lives or why he left – somehow, the one-sentence explanation Maman gave her that afternoon was enough. “He stopped choosing me,” her Maman said when she asked why Papa left. Eventually, the twice-a-month outings turned into a once-every-other-month affair, then it became visits during Christmas before he just stopped showing up altogether.

“He stopped choosing us,” Delphine once said to a schoolmate who asked about her father, the explanation seemed to fit not only for Maman but also for her.

It was years later when she saw the familiar lighter again – when she was in a hospital room recuperating from a car accident that could have gone worse. He showed up one day with flowers in hand, the lighter’s outline prominently showing on the pocket of his shirt. He became a steadier presence after that, stopping by for visits in the conservatory and even watching some of her plays regardless if she’s in the lead or in the background. Whenever he popped back into her life, the lighter seemed to ignite not only the many cigarettes shared over cups of coffee, but also the forgotten bond between father and daughter.

“It wasn’t easy...loving him,” she remembers her Maman saying while they were driving home from the hospital where Delphine’s father got admitted after passing out between the condiments section and the grains aisle while he was out getting groceries; Where a doctor grimly diagnosed “End-stage Liver Disease” - though judging from her father’s reaction, the news didn’t come as a surprise to him anymore.

“But I choose him every day,” her Maman said in a voice doused with the pain she recognized to be similar to that from many years ago in their kitchen. “Be it deliberately or unconsciously,” she said as they arrived home before Maman had started packing a small overnight bag. Delphine took over the driving chores after as she dropped her off in the hospital, choosing to take care of the man who stopped choosing her with no questions asked.

The lighter flickered to life and then snaps shut. She didn’t know when she exactly stopped choosing Martial or whether it happened deliberately or unconsciously. All she knows now - barely an hour after calling him to call the entire relationship off - is that she only realized that she no longer chooses him when she began choosing to reply to an email after the first sip of her morning coffee; when she began to choose reading a match analysis or a recap during breaks at work; when she began to watch tennis highlights before going to bed; when she signed up for a paid subscription to a tennis channel.

Whether Delphine was aware of it or not, she began choosing Cosima. She intends to say that to her after her tournament, along with the confession about Martial. Where they go from there, who knows, but she’s going to let the chips fall.

The cigarette on the ashtray dies and Delphine grabs another stick while still eyeing the lighter as she takes a long drag. She found it in a box labelled _‘Delphine’ _while they were packing up his things in his apartment two days after he passed_._ The lighter came with a bundle of photographs, a set of car keys for her father’s restored Karmann Ghia, and old music records. The car, the records, and most of the photos are at her Maman’s house as she chose to only hold on to the lighter and the photograph of them in the front porch that Cosima saw when she came over for dinner. 

“I won it in a card game, many years before you were born...From an American war resister hiding in Vancouver,” Delphine remembers him recounting in one of her shifts by his hospital bed. She’s been looking at it since this morning - before even calling Martial or before even answering Cosima’s latest email - finding it ironically funny how she just noticed the design at the back of the lighter after all this time: a worn out and tarnished engraving of the Golden Gate Bridge - another piece of Cosima she chooses every day since that night at the park. 

\---- 

**September 4, 2013 **

‘_What are you like when you’re in love?’_ Isn’t exactly the question Delphine had in mind to ask Cosima during the quarterfinals of a grand slam event, but the question she answered from the cheeky American warrants her question, she reasoned. It just so happened that Delphine’s most embarrassing experience revolves around the time when she lost her virginity to her first boyfriend, and in between recounting Richard’s pet cat - how it climbed on the bed, rubbed against his bare ass while they’re in the throes, and obnoxiously banged its little head on the door when it got thrown out of the room - her 12th question came up.

_"I think __you should know, Ms. Cormier, that I’m supposed to be studying up for an important match with Sarah,”_ is how Cosima’s letter started. _“But your story just made me spit out my water from my mouth hahaha. And Sarah is pissed because not only was I not paying attention to what she’s saying, she now has to change her shirt. I’ll have you know that the only remuneration for my offense is winning in the quarterfinals. If I don’t, I may be in a hunt for a new coach any time soon. :) So I’d like to thank you in advance for ruining my career ;)._ With what Delphine knows now about what she feels for her, the American’s cheekiness has just made her more endearing to her.

_My first time was awkward but it all worked out okay, I think. Your story...That is embarrassing... you guys technically almost had a threesome with his pet cat. :O Please tell me you broke up with him after?_

_Oh by the way, don’t be surprised if this comes out in a tabloid soon. I have no more tennis career because of you so the least you can do is give me permission to sell your story to the highest bidder. I can see the headlines now - Bestiality: The Secret Shame of Delphine Cormier. ;)_

_Can’t wait to see you again so I can tease you more about this – C_

Delphine was already asleep when Cosima replied, tired from the play and a string of auditions - some promising and some clearly not cut out for her. As part of her on-going efforts to shorten the time span between their correspondences, she actually tried to wait for Cosima’s feedback about her cat story before sleep claimed her. She hopes that her quicker replies would make the brunette understand that not only did she not regret the kiss, she’s looking forward to hear more of her stories and answer more of her questions - and that if kisses come with those stories, she’d happily accept and reciprocate.

When she woke up in the morning, she read Cosima’s letter with a smile before starting to type away.

_Two can play at that game, Miss Niehaus. I have enough dirt on you for a juicy, tell-all book deal. ;)_

_I went out with him for a year after that_ _and_ _thankfully, Monsieur Bigglesworth was always in her crate whenever I was at their house. What can I say? I loved him - as much as a 16 year old can love another person. _

_So my question to you now is - What is Cosima Niehaus like when she’s in love? _

_Your secrets are always safe with me, _

_Delphine_

She hits send and she could only wish for the dreadlocked brunette’s quick reply, in the hopes that she will ask the same question so she can finally describe to Cosima how her letters and messages really make her feel.

\-----

**September 5, 2013**

_What is Cosima Niehaus like when she’s in love...Well, for starters she can’t stop thinking about the object of her affection - emailing her and texting her every chance she gets. She would call if she can and if she could talk. She’s all she sees, all she thinks about, all she dreams about. She drives in the middle of the night just so she gets to surprise her by watching her weirdly awesome play in Tribeca two days before one of the biggest tournaments of her career. _

_She makes time for her, even if it’s near impossible - time that she should be spending on tennis or resting from tennis or travelling for tennis. _

_And oh, she’s also seething with jealousy at the fact that said object of her affection is apparently in a loving, long-term relationship._

_How is the director-boyfriend by the way, Del? We haven’t talked about him at all since_|

Cosima hurriedly deletes her reply, making sure as every word disappears to not accidentally graze her fingers on the send icon. She tries to reason with herself – she initiated the kiss and Delphine didn’t yank her chain. She knows she doesn’t have any right to be angry at her for not telling her about Martial, but that doesn’t stop her from feeling like a fool for misreading the entire situation. She allows herself one last read of the reply, imagining Delphine actually saying these words to her while sitting on that couch in her studio. She’s aware that she really needs to stop thinking about anything not related to the semifinals match tomorrow if she wants to give herself a fighting chance against her opponent.

She can only sigh. She is going up against Victoria Azarenka – the number 2 seed and a former world number 1; a two-time, back-to-back Australian Open champion; the clear favorite; and somebody she last played against in the Orange Bowl when she was 13 years old. Sarah will be back in her room soon, getting the videos and notes from the suite she shares with Felix before discussing tactics. They have a nice room - she’d seen it after her fourth round win over Flavia Penetta when the hotel manager tried to move her there. She refused to switch rooms, choosing to stringently stick to her routines to avoid bad luck. But she took the proffered suite for her coach and her physio who’s stuck in one of the noisier, lower-floor twin rooms. They were very happy about it and they seem to be holding up their end of the bargain – to not raid the free mini bar until the tournament ends.

Cosima usually uses the time before Sarah comes back to send Delphine a quick reply but after finding out about Martial, she doesn’t seem to know what to say anymore. It’s weird, she thinks as she shakes her head - how much she wants to continue talking to her but choosing not to, be it out of self-preservation or because she simply doesn’t want to step on anybody’s toes.

Luckily, her thoughts about Delphine are interrupted when Sarah and Felix enters her room, ready to scout Azarenka’s last few matches.

“Let’s put this on mute, yeah?” Felix says as he sits down beside Cosima on the bed while Sarah puts a USB in the TV.

“Tempting, but no,” Sarah flatly said, “we need to hear her play and figure out if there is a tell somewhere there.”

“_Aargh_, it’ll be the same level of decibels, love -” Felix replies while rubbing his eyes in exasperation, “whether she’s serving, hitting a forehand, or covering the net – just slightly quieter than the trains at King’s Cross Station if you ask me.” Cosima personally doesn’t mind when her opponent grunts, especially if it was out of a genuine effort to hit the ball cleanly and not done for gamesmanship. Either way, she barely notices it - her concentration focused on her game and not on the noise coming from the other side of the court. She was trying her best to be present in the room as Felix ribs Sarah about her own bird-like grunting when her phone lit up - a text from Delphine.

“_I know you’re busy and I hope I’m not interrupting. I just want to tell you that I believe in you and I can’t wait to watch you go all out tomorrow. Bonne chance, Cosima._”

“Fee,” Cosima says as she looks at her phone, a hand holding her glasses and pressed on her forehead. “Can you do me a favor and take care of Delphine’s passes for tomorrow? I’ll give you her number later.” Before anybody can reply, she gets out of the bed to use the bathroom, putting her glasses back on and taking her phone with her. The bathroom door slams shut and in the room that is now getting drowned by the noise of Azarenka’s quarterfinals match, Sarah and Felix can’t help but exchange curious looks at their ward’s odd request.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It ran long again, so I'm splitting it into two chapters this week. :)


	11. Depths of Nothing, Part 2: US Open 2013 Semifinals

**September 6, 2013 – Semifinals Day**

Delphine lights another cigarette while waiting for her coffee to brew in an effort to get a much needed moment of peace amidst all the things she is worrying about. She’s been going back and forth about what to do with her hair ever since she stepped out of the shower - leave it down and curly? Put it in a bun? Maybe straighten it for a change? Go for braids as a cheesy sign of solidarity? She went with a messy bun and made sure to put extra scrunchies in her bag just in case.

The coffeemaker stops dripping as she fishes for a mug from a cupboard to pour in the dark liquid, opting to skip the sugar and frothed milk and take her coffee black this afternoon. Nervous about what today brings, she didn’t sleep well last night. And every time she’s roused from fitful slumber, she reached out for her phone and refreshed her mailbox. Every time she did so, the result was the same – no new email from Cosima. On the way out of the shower, she notices the baggies under her eyes and knew that after this short coffee and cigarette break that she has to put extra attention on her eyes when she puts on her makeup.

“Don’t be so selfish,” she mutters to the room, “she’s entitled to shut everyone out. It’s a big day for her – her first grand slam semifinals,” she says before downing the strong and bitter brew. Before dressing up, she checks her phone again – there are no new messages from Cosima. Her last message was yesterday, a business-like “_Thank you_” sent 30 minutes after she wished her good luck. She didn’t push any further, afraid that she’s interrupting her and her team as they do last-minute match preparations.

A different number then sent her a message an hour after Cosima’s last text – it was Felix, telling her he can’t meet her to get her in the venue like in Montreal. He barked instructions about how she’ll get in the stadium, where she’ll get her pass, and reminding her to ask one of the ushers to help her get to the box. “It’s a pretty big stadium so ask for help. Call me when you get lost,” he reminded her.

Even with the match arrangements in place, she’s worried. _“Was I too forward with my question?”_ She mused last night before heading to bed. Maybe they can talk about what they can and cannot ask each other when they’re both free to talk.

Delphine just put on a pair of jeans, sensible brown boots, and a black and white polka dot shirt buttoned all the way up when her phone rang. She left it by the coffeemaker and she runs towards it to answer the call. She was a bit disappointed to see Océane’s name on the screen, but she willed herself to sound calm and welcoming.

“Hey, I just want to wish you a good day today,” her friend slightly teases. “And don’t worry about missing tonight’s performance - Kate is going to do well, though we certainly miss you.” Her friend was kind enough to let her take today off and let the understudy take to the stage. While she is allowed to take a one-day rest every week, she opted to perform night after night, intoxicated by the allure and intimacy of performing an interesting play to a delighted and interactive audience. 

“Thank you again,” Delphine replies and she tries to laugh when her friend told her “to get some” tonight before ending the call. She wears a short black coat before heading out of the studio, but not before one last look at her phone. “She’s just nervous,” she tries to reassure herself as she locks the door and starts to make her way to Flushing Meadows.

\-----

Cosima sits on one of the changing benches as she puts on her shoes and tightly ties the laces. The locker room is eerily quiet now that there are only four players left in the tournament. At the start of the event, the room is equal parts noisy (filled with animated conversations in English, Spanish, Italian, Czech, Russian, and all other languages one can think of) and frosty (losing players mourning with their team, girls who dislike each other subtly expressing their animosities in their own special ways).

She’s used to the noise - to Li Na’s corny jokes that still make her laugh; to Sveta Kuznetsova’s intentionally bad rendition of Madama Butterfly in the shower room; to the sound of cold shoulders being exchanged; and to Alize Cornet’s dramatic re-telling of how an umpire screwed her over with a bad call in a tournament two months ago. And this: the silence, the lack of other players to talk to is an entirely new thing for Cosima. It unnerves her - if only the quiet of the room can be bottled and deposited in her head to douse her nagging thoughts, she thinks.

Cosima has been trying since after the quarterfinals to clear her head, to block everything and only think of the path to the trophy. But the path itself is tricky and filled with complications – of opponents that can easily outhit her; of counterpunchers never winning grand slams; of Plan As, Plan Bs, Plan Cs, and Plan Ds; of meetings with her agent who clearly dislikes her; of thinking about going against superstition and actually inviting her parents to watch; of the usual pains in her back and in her legs; of a beautiful, talented, and intelligent actress who she’s fallen so hard for in such a short span of time; and of her boyfriend – a living reminder that she can never be with her, no matter how soft, pliant, and enthusiastic Delphine’s lips were when they kissed.

“Hey,” Sarah says as she sits beside her. “You know it’s on me right? Whatever happens out there, it’s on me.” 

“Thanks,” Cosima says, “but I’m the one out there – all alone in the forest,” and she removes her glasses as she uncomfortably puts in her contact lenses.

“Yeah, I know...” Her coach sighs, “I was alone in the forest once too...in another life.” She puts an arm around her player, “I’m just saying whatever happens, we’ll carry the load together - you, me, Fee.”

And even if Cosima is just a bundle of nerves right now, she manages a smile at what Sarah said. People have asked her many times why she hired Sarah as her coach when she finally turned pro. Some even went as far as recommending other coaches with more experience and with better credentials and temperaments. But she chose Sarah, and this locker room talk is one of the reasons why she stuck with her all these years.

A knock followed by the sound of loafers hitting the marble floor interrupts their conversation. “Are you ready?” A man wearing a USTA polo shirt asks them.

“Yeah,” Cosima answers before standing up as Sarah helps pick up her tennis bag, “let’s go.”

\-----

Felix wasn’t exaggerating when he said that the stadium is overwhelmingly big and intimidating, Delphine thinks. She was glad that she made the right call about taking the train as she sees the enormous number of cars all making their way to the Billie Jean King National Tennis Center. As instructed, she approaches the US Open Ticket Information to look for a girl named Sozie. She fell in line for around 20 minutes and when it was finally her turn, Sozie didn’t even ask her for an ID before handing in her pass – along with a smile, a sweet comment about how much she loves Totentanz, and a request for a selfie which she obliged. “Enter through the President’s Gate, near the practice courts,” Sozie says as she hands her a map of the venue, “and show ‘em that. They’ll let you right in.”

Armed with the map, Delphine walks through a sea of humanity all trying to squeeze in through the stadium’s main entrance. She reaches the West Gate where a couple of beefy bouncers waved her right in upon seeing her ID. She thought the hard and confusing part is over once she’s in, but once inside, she’s met by a maze of seats and stairs as she takes in the dizzying size of Arthur Ashe Stadium. A lanky usher seeing her ID and the confusion all over her face respectfully escorted her to Cosima’s box – surprisingly empty 30 minutes before the match starts.

She knew based on their earlier correspondence that Cosima’s parents wouldn’t be here to watch her play. _“They’re professors living on a house boat,”_ she wrote when she asked about her childhood and her parents. _“My Dad thinks he’s bad luck so I never ask them to watch live, but maybe I would one day – who knows?”_ She meant to ask if that one day is now had she replied to her recent email. 

“Hey, you made it!” Felix says from behind her as he sets down his bag, a few towels, and bottles of drinks in different colors before sitting down next to her. “Told you it was huge,” and he points to the entire stadium.

“How is Cosima? Is she okay?” Delphine asks quickly, not even regarding what Felix said about the huge stadium.

“As well as can be expected - for a first timer in the semifinals,” he answers. “Darling, can you put this over that?” He then asks and Delphine accepts the smaller towel handed to her and drapes it on the small camera beside her. “What is that even used for?” She asks as she points to it.

“Box reactions,” Sarah says as she enters the box and takes a seat next to the towels and bottles. “They like recording how we react for the highlight reel. They even have lip readers to figure out what we talk about.” And from her bag, she brings out a tablet which made Delphine smile - the first genuine smile she lets out today.

“Whatever happened to old school?” Delphine teases as she points to the tablet.

Sarah looks at Delphine with a sarcastic smirk, “Yeah, yeah, you were right blondie,” she says, as if she just chewed on a box of thumbtacks. 

“In case you missed that,” Felix chimes in, “she hates to admit when other people are right.” And before Sarah can react, an announcer took to the court. Suddenly, the energy in Cosima’s box changes from genial to anxious.

“It’s okay to be nervous,” Sarah says, “we’re in this together.” And at those words, Delphine couldn’t help but smile at the thought that she really is part of Team Niehaus.

\-----

Like in Montreal, Cosima got the earlier match start. Oddly enough, the next semifinal match features familiar names: Li Na, Cosima’s opponent in Montreal, versus Serena Williams, whose Montreal match Delphine briefly watched before heading out with Cosima to her house.

But unlike in Montreal, Delphine can’t help but think how distant Cosima seems now. Gone are the little waves and smiles when she looks to the box and saw her there; or the constant eye contact with Felix or Sarah when she scores or when she commits an error. The Cosima before her has a stoic, all-business aura that goes against her uniquely loud outfit – a black-and-white striped tennis skirt over black shorts; a neon pink top that subtly shows a black sports bra; black tennis shoes with accents mirroring her top; black wristbands that slightly cover her tattoos; and the signature knee socks in black. Her dreads are in a tight bun and to keep them out of her face, she’s wearing a headband with the same stripes as her skirt.

This may be the earlier match, the matinee performance, but it’s being played in front of a packed stadium. It’s also not hard to tell who the crowd is cheering for as every point scored by one of the two Americans left in the women’s draw gets the loudest, most boisterous cheers. The prediction article Delphine read while in the train said that apart from relying on quickness and accuracy, Cosima should also feed off from the energy of the crowd if she wants to have a sliver of a chance to win against her opponent, Victoria Azarenka from Belarus, who already has two grand slams under her belt.

“So far, so good,” Sarah says when Cosima won her first service game to level things at 1-1 in the first set. Azarenka won the coin toss, electing to serve, with the American only scoring a solitary point in that first game: a stinging cross-court backhand that seems to send a message – _look out._

In the opponent’s next service game though, Sarah watches like a hawk as Azarenka finds herself in a Love-30 hole, only to claw back to 30-all after hitting a backhand down the line winner followed by a service receive shank by Cosima. “Come on, Cos,” she mumbles while trying to maintain a poker face, “you know what to do.” And after a 14-shot baseline rally that ended with a tricky volley from Cosima, Azarenka drags a backhand wide to give the 18th seeded American her first break of the match: 1-2, an early lead that invigorates an already energetic crowd.

Delphine’s heart skips a beat when the big screens in the stadium focused on Cosima’s face as she gives her first focused and sharp look at her player’s box when she broke Azarenka. She wanted to stand up and cheer, but chose to copy Sarah and Felix’s subdued celebratory claps instead.

And just as the Niehaus Box was beginning to breathe a little easier, an actual twist in the match unfolds. Up 40-30 in the fourth game with Cosima needing only one more point to put her nose ahead in the match at 3-1, she seemed to have been wrong-footed while chasing down her opponent’s shot. At 40-all, Cosima goes down, sitting on the hard court while clutching on her left ankle – her hisses of pain picked up by the on-court mic and broadcasted to a crowd that suddenly goes quiet.

“Holy shit,” Felix says as he hurriedly gets off his seat with his gym bag and a couple of bottles. Delphine can only watch as Cosima hobbles back to the service line to bravely try to serve, but unable to move and run properly, Azarenka wins the next two points and breaks back 2-2.

“Fucking cock-up,” Delphine hears Sarah murmur as they subtly exchange concerned looks. Cosima is limping badly as she walks back to her chair before requesting the umpire to call for the trainer. In a matter of a few minutes, a woman with a backpack who has well-kept long brown hair and bangs jogs to Cosima’s chair to speak to her.

“I don’t understand,” Delphine couldn’t help say as she stews in worry, “isn’t Felix supposed to be the one helping Cosima? And why aren’t you down there?”

“It’s against the rules,” Sarah answers quickly without looking at her, “we can only give the supplies they’re going to use on her, but we can’t be in the court. And coaching is not allowed at slams.”

Delphine and Sarah can only watch as the trainer takes off Cosima’s left shoe and sock to examine the damage. At that point, the umpire officially announces that the dreadlocked brunette is receiving an injury timeout.

“It’s a good thing Hendrix is the one on-call at Ashe,” Sarah says probably referring to the trainer now tending to the American, “and not that hack Davydov who’s just going to feel Cosima up instead of taping her up.”

Delphine’s ears pricked up at Sarah’s last quip. ‘_Who is Davydov?’_ She wanted to ask Sarah but at this point, she’s more concern about Cosima. Feeling helpless, all she can do is ensnare her bottom lip with her teeth. It felt like an hour, but the injury timeout only lasted for about three minutes and before Delphine knew it, the crowd has once again gone loud as they cheer relentlessly when Cosima got back on her feet, giving her treated ankle a test by jogging and jumping in place.

Before the play resumes, Felix got back to the box looking a little worse for wear. “Alison said it’s only a minor twist,” he says to Sarah in a voice audible enough for Delphine to hear. “She tells me it’s very tender though,” he added. And as Cosima scores a winner out of an accurate return of serve, Felix claps before turning to Sarah and proclaiming, “we are fucking taping her ankles from now on. That can’t happen again under my watch.”

Azarenka went on to hold 3-2 and as Cosima’s coach and physio observe her service motions to figure out if the injury is causing any discomfort, Delphine just stiffly sits there - quietly imagining how painful this is for the American. And unlike in Montreal where she hoped for a win, this time she can only wish for the mummified-looking ankle to hold up and not cause a more severe injury.

“_Screw the results,” _Delphine thinks, _“Cosima is more important.”_

\-----

“I almost did the choke of the year just about now. I had so many chances to close it out, but Cosima just did not want to give up. I felt a bit overwhelmed by the end and I’m happy I kept my emotions to finish it...”

Sarah, Felix, and Delphine only stayed until this part of Victoria Azarenka’s on-court interview after her 7-6 (7-5 in the tiebreak), 6-3 win before quickly leaving the player’s box to meet Cosima as she exits the stadium. She was already in the tunnels, removing her contacts and setting her bag on the floor to retrieve her glasses when they got there. From where Delphine is standing as Sarah and Felix wrap her in their arms, Cosima looks numb. She didn’t know what she was expecting – dejection, sadness, maybe even anger – but definitely not numb.

“Cosima,” and Delphine gives Cosima a hug which the brunette politely receives at first before suddenly backing away. 

“Sorry, I’m all sweaty,” she says as she looks down on the floor while massaging her nape with her palm, “wouldn’t want to ruin your outfit.” Delphine was definitely not expecting that and she wanted to hold the American’s face so she would finally look at her, but a camera crew rolls by to capture Cosima in defeat which made Delphine retreat from what she wanted to do.

“Come on, sod off,” Sarah angrily says, her protective instincts kicking in. When the crew is gone, Sarah tries to carry Cosima’s tennis bag before the American stopped her. “I’ve got it you guys,” she says, finally with her chin up.

“You sure?” Felix asks. “I need to treat that ankle as soon as possible and - ”

“It’s fine now,” Cosima interrupts him as she re-wears her tennis bag and picks up her used towels. “We can deal with all of it tomorrow. Really, I’ve got it from here. I’ll see you all back in the hotel,” and she walks away from them as she heads to the locker room.

In spite of their daily conversations, Delphine admits that she doesn’t know Cosima well enough to figure out if this is how she is after a defeat or if she did something wrong somewhere between the last time they saw each other and today. She leans on the wall, not knowing what else to do or where to go after the loss.

“Oi blondie,” Sarah says to her. Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice that they’ve already started walking and are now about 10 feet away from her. “You heard what she said, let’s go back to the hotel - there’s a mini bar with our names on it.” And Delphine follows her and Felix as they make their way out of the tunnels. 

\-----

Like any typical professional tennis player, Cosima has her fair share of weird superstitions and beliefs – one of which is not crying in the shower room no matter how hard and painful the loss is. She believes it’s a matter of pride– the need to put up a brave face in the jaws of defeat. Plus, there is a perfectly private bathroom in the hotel room where she can let it all out. But as she bathes now after hurriedly wrapping up her cool down session and her post-match press conference, she can’t help but let a few tears roll down her face.

“I was already fucking there,” she silently mutters, ruing the missed opportunity to play for all the marbles. “Shit,” and she washes away the soap and shampoo before shutting the water off and getting out of the cubicle to change into clean clothes. She quickly checks herself in the mirror, making sure that no remnants of her shower tears are evident on her face. Pride is all she has left after all and she needs to get out of here as soon as possible, lest she wants to bump into Azarenka and her team at the locker room in a celebratory mood.

“Hey,” a familiar voice emerges from the rows of lockers as she wears a fresh shirt. It’s Shay. “How are you holding up?” And she points to her injured ankle.

“Fine,” she manages to answer as she packs up her sweaty clothes, careful to not put too much weight on her left ankle. 

“You’re not fine,” Shay says as she motions for her to take a sit on one of the benches. “Let me tape this up.”

Cosima is dead tired - wiped out mentally, emotionally, and physically. Everything hurts – her ankle most especially. Unable to think straight and with no energy to refuse, she sits down as Shay reaches out from inside her bag. When she got all the supplies she’ll need, the trainer gently lifts Cosima’s left leg to rest her affected ankle on her thigh.

“I can make you feel better...” Shay says softly, her words echoing in the empty locker room as she caresses the tennis player’s foot and legs while re-strapping the injured limb. Cosima knows by the tone of her voice and the look in her eyes that she’s not just referring to her ankle. She lets out a shivering breath as Shay finishes up, tempted to momentarily forget every worry in her mind even for just one night. 

\-----

“This is a nice suite,” Delphine says as she looks out towards Central Park with a glass of red wine in her hand. She wonders as she hears Felix and Sarah shuffle around the suite if Cosima’s room is as nice as this one and if she would ever get a chance to see it in person.

“It’s not bad,” Felix replies from the wet bar with a shrug, earning a look from Delphine as she watches him arrange the bottles of alcohol they got from the hotel fridge and from the liquor store around the corner. “This was supposed to be Cos’ room, but she stayed in a standard room down the hall. Superstition...” and he gulps a glass of Jefferson’s Bourbon that Sarah specifically purchased for tonight. “She’s a good boss for letting us trash it though,” he adds as he pours himself another helping.

Delphine goes back to looking out to the park, biting her lip in worry before taking a sip of her drink. It has been a little over three hours since the match ended and none of them has gotten any word from the dreadlocked brunette. “I hope we can help somehow,” she breathes out, “she just looked so empty when we saw her before she went to the locker room.”

She feels a presence beside her – Sarah drinking directly from the complimentary mini bottle of bourbon from the hotel fridge while her other hand holds a bottle of Cabernet Franc, intending to refill her glass. “You being here,” Sarah said as she pours the wine, “is all the help she’ll need.” She then proceeds to sit on an alcove that serves as a two-seater lounge by the window, a hand on her head trying to wish away a headache.

“She’ll come around,” Sarah says to no one in particular as Felix joins them to sit on the carpeted floor. “She’s always like this when she loses – she needs her space immediately. When she’s ready she’ll just knock on the door and grab a bottle or cry in the shower. Whatever floats her boat.”

The large television in the suite is turned on for quite some time now with the volume low. Delphine, Sarah, and Felix weren’t really paying attention to what it’s showing - the second semifinal match where Serena handily defeated Li Na in straight sets. Even if Sarah and Felix are more focused on consuming every bit of alcohol available in the room, they somehow managed to drunkenly huddle in front of the TV when snippets of Cosima’s press conference are shown after Serena’s win.

“She just wanted to get it over and done with,” Felix reacts as he watches. Cosima just wore a pair of black pants and a white cardigan during her post-match interview. It didn’t look like she has already showered, Delphine thinks to herself. “She probably came straight from cool down,” Sarah adds, confirming her hunch. 

“_Vika played exceptionally well today,_” the blonde watches attentively and hangs on to Cosima’s every word. “_Hats off to her and her team, and all the best in the finals,_” she added before dismissing a reporter’s insinuation that the unfortunate ankle incident affected the outcome of the match.

“Oh God, she can be such a fair play girl scout sometimes,” Felix growls. “Oi! It fucking bothered you in the second set!” He says to Cosima on the TV, his voice getting louder. “We all saw it - your serve has no bloody lift!” And as if on cue, the broadcast suddenly replays that sequence where Cosima twisted her ankle, along with slow-mo footage and player box reactions.

“We should really tape her ankles from now on,” Sarah dejectedly says before turning it off. “That was on me...”

“It’s on me too. And that’s what I’ve been yapping about all this time,” he irritatingly says before chuckling unexpectedly. “You know I almost gave poor Alison a heart attack when I told her Cosima’s not taped,” and he grabs the bottle of wine from an amused Sarah to take a swig.

“It’s a good thing that you know the trainer - Alison,” Delphine soberly muses. “At least you got somebody you trust to wrap her ankle.” She pauses a bit, considering if she should continue. “And not this other one – Davydov?”

Felix lazily lifts an eyebrow as a reaction to what Delphine just said. “What? How did you know that?” He then turns dramatically to face Sarah. “Did you tell her about her?”

“I may have,” Sarah answers as she gets the opened bottle of bourbon from her brother to put it around her lips.

“How much have you downed?” He asks. Sarah tried to count the shots she’s gulped with her fingers and offers a sardonic laugh when she couldn’t remember. With a dismissive wave of his hand towards his sister, Felix continued to talk. “Oh well, cats out of the bag, whatever. Luckily for us, Shay the Lay was apparently out in Armstrong when it happened.” Delphine has joined him on the floor as she gets the bottle of wine beside him to fill up her glass. And before she can even ask more about ‘Shay the Lay’, Sarah slurred.

“Her Shay the Lay days are over...I think. Cos hasn’t hooked up with her since Indian Wells. And she kept ‘running into me’ the entire first week, asking about her,” Sarah says complete with air quotes. Delphine takes a quick glance at the wet bar and the empty bottles of hard alcohol in varying sizes on the counter. It’s definitely the liquor talking, making it easy for Sarah and Felix to talk about something they would normally keep to themselves or joke with Cosima about in private. Somehow in between counting empty bottles and counting the minutes before Cosima returns, Delphine feels a pinch of jealousy at knowing about Shay. Maybe she’s a little drunk herself, she thinks, and she’s probably had enough. 

“You going to drink anything stronger than that?” Felix asks while pointing to Delphine’s half-full glass.

“Non,” Delphine answers, “wine is enough for me. Thank you.”

“Suit yourself,” and he wobbles to grab two bottles of vodka from the bar. By the time Delphine stood up to get some water, Felix has already cracked the bottles open and has returned to sit by Sarah who takes a long pull of her bourbon. Delphine was already drinking her water when she hears shuffling and rustling from the hallway.

“That could be Cosima,” she says, leaving the glass of water by the counter intending to check.

“Oh blondie, just drink!” Sarah bellows from across the room, the bottle of bourbon she’s clutching now almost empty. “If it’s her and she wants company, she’ll just come here,” but she quickly disregards Sarah’s words to quietly open the door.

The moment she saw what’s in the hallway, Delphine wished she had listened to Sarah.

With her untrammeled sight, she sees Cosima from four doors down – flushed against the wall, writhing not in pain from the ankle injury but in ecstasy as a smaller woman with straight, long blonde hair ravishes her with her lips and hands. From where she’s standing, she can see Cosima tilting her head to give the other woman - Shay the Lay, she presumes – a better position to kiss her all over her neck. She hears a sound - a cross between a giggle and a moan - erupting from the brunette as Shay ups the ante by zipping down her cardigan and fondling her breasts. Cosima returns the favor, letting her hands roam to grab the other woman’s ass as one of Shay’s hands moves from Cosima’s breast to the pocket of her cardigan in search of something. A key card. And a soft beep later, they were gone, giggling their way to Cosima’s room.

Delphine closes the door and rests her head on the varnished wood. Hearing about Cosima and her hook up is bad enough, but seeing it with her own eyes is something else entirely. She wanted to leave and never look back - to forget about ever meeting Cosima - until a voice from inside the suite gave her a less drastic and more appealing option.

“Just come here and have a drink with us,” Felix says in drunken glee.

Delphine swallows the bitter bile of jealousy arising from within her as she grabs a new bottle of bourbon and a fresh glass. She chases the bitterness down with a healthy gulp of the amber liquid, much to the delight of Sarah and Felix who hoots when she pours herself another generous serving.

“You’re right,” Delphine says to Felix, “something stronger would be perfect.”

\-----

**September 7, 2013**

It was the cursed sunlight seeping out from the small gap between the window’s blackout curtains that Delphine first saw when she tried to open her eyes. Her limbs feel heavy as the fingers instinctively rubbing her eyes went on to massage her forehead in a futile attempt to soothe her pounding head.

After painfully adjusting to the searing light, Delphine tries to remember where she is exactly. She carefully turns her head to look at her surroundings - the familiar alcove in front of her means that she’s at Sarah and Felix’s suite. Now sure of her location, Delphine tries to push the limits of her hungover brain by trying to remember the last thing she did before ending up in the couch – in apparently only her panties and her thin white undershirt. She vaguely remembers drinking wine directly from the bottle, many empty bottles of hard alcohol, drunken laughter, and perhaps even tears.

As the world becomes a little less hazy, she remembered chain smoking last night - the remnants of which is right there at the coffee table, an empty wine bottle used as a makeshift ashtray – which isn’t wise but last night was not about being wise or responsible. Delphine looks at the bottle, half-filled with cigarette butts. She wasn’t even sure if this hotel allowed in-room smoking. She can’t even remember the name of the hotel.

At least somebody was nice enough to cover her up with a throw, she thinks, as she tries to sit up. She painfully looks to her right in search of her phone and saw that somebody was also kind enough to leave a big glass of water and what looks like two white tablets on the coffee table. She drinks the water, feeling pain and then relief for her dry mouth. She suspiciously eyes the tablets – unable to trust herself to figure out what they are exactly.

“It’s Aspirin,” a voice boomed from behind her which made her turn sharply to the direction of the familiar sound. It’s Cosima, tending to a coffee maker by the wet bar. The sudden turn made her head throb and before she hurls whatever it is that she drank last night, she downs both tablets with a gulp of water.

The first dose of hydration makes her brain click, making her realize the last clear, sober image she had from last night – of Cosima being caressed and touched by another; of Cosima enjoying it and quaking in delight. In the harsh light after a rough night, all Delphine wants to do is run away.

“Where are my clothes?” she asked, draping the short blanket on her body to look decent, suddenly feeling so exposed in the presence of the brunette.

“Over there,” and Cosima points to the dining table: where her pants and shirt are haplessly located. “Sarah said that you took them off last night because it got wet. Apparently, Felix spilled an entire bottle of vodka on the carpet,” the brunette says in a considerate soft voice. “You said you were going to clean it...and you cleaned it by rolling all over it.”

Normally, such stories would have made her laugh. But now, the only thing she feels is the need to get out of here as soon as possible as the memory of last night and why she drank gets clearer and clearer. Willing all her functioning brain cells, Delphine gets up as quickly as she can – leaving the throw on the couch - to cross the room and retrieve her bathed-in-vodka clothes. Apart from the distinct alcohol smell, the clothes were luckily dry. Delphine wouldn’t have minded either way.

From the bar, Cosima tries not to look, but she couldn’t help but take a passing glimpse at the blonde in only her underwear. In any other time, the image may be arousing, but this morning seeing Delphine in such vulnerable shape only sharpens the pain and resentment of never being able to have her, of never being able to tell her how she really feels about her.

“Had a great night?” Cosima can’t help but ask while she pours coffee in a mug as Delphine pulls up her jeans.

From what Delphine can tell, the brunette’s question was asked in a sarcastic, slightly mocking tone, and she couldn’t help but snap. “I’m sure yours was better,” she answers, immediately blaming the lack of filter and patience to the alcohol and cigarettes she irresponsibly consumed last night.

“That’s none of your business,” Cosima stoically replies as she gets another mug to fill with coffee. ‘_You have no right to be angry at her,’_ she reminds herself. ‘_Why is she angry at you?’_ Cosima asks herself now as she picks up on the blonde’s mood.

“You’re right, it’s none of my business,” and Delphine tries to fasten her shirt properly but fails to do so in the first try. “Could have fooled me,” she adds underneath her breath as she does a do-over on her shirt’s buttons.

“What did you say?” And Cosima abandons both the stoicism and the morning coffees to come face to face with the blonde.

“Could have fooled me, Cosima,” Delphine says louder and clearer, the unfamiliar vitriol towards Cosima urging her to not back down.

“ ‘_Could have fooled me?_’ Really?!?” The American retorts, the fury in her eyes evident. “I should be the one saying that, Delphine. How did I fool you huh? Tell me,” she demands.

In the midst of whatever is happening, Delphine briefly saw herself at the mirror by the bar. She tries not to laugh. She looks like a disaster. The once bouncing curls is now flat and all over the place, while her face is also covered in last night’s washed out makeup and what looks like drool. “I thought you were different,” she replies, matching the anger in Cosima’s voice but adding a ton of sarcasm to her words. “In the end you’re just a jock...” And the minute she said those words, she instantly regretted it, but the inexplicable anger and jealousy over what she saw down the hall easily outweighed the guilt for now.

“Yeah, maybe I am,” Cosima sneers while Delphine wears her jacket, picks up her phone and puts it in her bag to leave.

“Well, I guess it was nice knowing you,” Delphine says facing the door, unable to look at Cosima as she says what seems to be a last goodbye she never expected to utter to the brunette. She's halfway out of the suite - all she needed to do was close the door - when Cosima spoke in a voice so broken and sad that it made her heart ache.

“Nice meeting you too, Delphine. Say hi to the boyfriend for me.”

Delphine swore she heard a sob, and when she finally turned around intending to take back everything she said this morning and to come clean about Martial and how she feels, Cosima was already gone. With nothing left to do, she gets out of the room, hands shaking and breaths quick. She was crossing the hotel’s lobby to get to the exit when she realized that the sob may have been from her as the tears she didn’t know she was producing roll down her cheeks. A hotel doorman politely hailed a cab for her and in the backseat, she tried to cry as quietly as she can, telling herself that she can cry to her heart’s content in the smoking nook once she gets home. ‘_Did I lead her on?_’ She asks herself as she grapples with a headache. And the answer she arrived at is making it hard for her not to lose it right then and there.

She didn’t even bother checking the amount she gave the driver as she hurriedly steps out of the cab to enter the building. While waiting for an elevator, she checks the time for the very first time since waking up from the couch – it was just a little past 7 a.m., which explains the faster commute.

The tears can no longer be suppressed by the time she reached her hallway, and with murky eyes she fumbled for her keys inside her bag as she walks to her door. But as she gets closer to the studio, she thinks that the alcohol and the booming hangover are making her see things – that she’s imagining a familiar figure leaning on her door with a bag resting on its lap. As she wipes the fresh batch of tears from her eyes, her vision becomes clearer. It’s not her imagination - the figure is real and it has stood up to run long fingers through brown hair before beginning to speak.

“Delphine...I was here all night...” It’s Martial and the timbre of his voice sounds as weary as hers. She sees him looking at her carefully, probably confused as to where she came from and why she looks like a mess at such an early hour.

Still, he moves forward to try to eliminate any space between them. And though the blonde backed away a little, she didn’t have the strength nor the right amount of functioning mental faculties to stop him from reaching out to hold her hand. “Can we just talk? Please.” 

“Merde,” Delphine murmurs at the slow realization that this day is just about to get longer. She gingerly moves to get to her apartment, unsure if and why she left the door open as she snaps her lighter to light her cigarette. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tennis things:
> 
> *"Armstrong" is Louis Armstrong Stadium, one of the stadiums in the Billie Jean King National Tennis Center in Flushing Meadows.  
*Indian Wells is a big deal, hardcourt tournament that happens around early March.
> 
> Tennis is not everybody's cup of tea so I want to thank everyone who's giving this story a chance. Thank you as well for the comments and kudos. I really, really appreciate it. I always love feedback so let me know what you think. :)
> 
> I am also going to try my best to churn out an update before Christmas. But just in case I don't, I'd like to wish Happy Holidays to those celebrating it. :)


	12. Radio Silence: Asian Hardcourt Swing, 2013

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays to all!
> 
> This is more of a picking-up-the-pieces, filler chapter that sets up the fic's second arc.:)

**September 19, 2013: 12 Days after the U.S. Open**

_Cosima:_

_Please accept my sincere apologies for the manner in which our meeting ended in New York. I understand how difficult it must be for you after the semifinals. Nevertheless, I have itemized below the important details we failed to discuss: _

Cosima can only muster a sarcastic smile. This is what her inbox looks like now: filled to the brim with business-related and tennis-centered letters and announcements that she tries to not deal with during breaks from the tour. The business email address - a very stiff-sounding _c.niehaus@rdsr.com _courtesy of her agent - is the first thing that she mutes after every tournament, only checking it once a week to see if she missed something big. But apart from random drug test schedules and the updated list of banned substances and supplements sent to her, Rachel, and Felix every 2nd of the month, nothing that important passes through here. If it’s really important, Rachel will get a hold of her via a terse phone call anyway.

She sighs. At least this boring, impersonal email account is still receiving new emails.

In the middle of Rachel’s formal 5-day old rant complete with choice bullet points on new sponsors and performance bonuses, something oddly interesting caught Cosima’s eye.

  1. _ Noise complaint – I have received word from Mr. Thomas Parrish, General Manager of the Parker New York about a noise complaint from the suite you generously allowed Ms. Manning and Mr. Dawkins to use during the tournament. Ms. Azarenka, who was billeted in the suite next door, was the one who lodged the complaint the day after your semifinals. I have made the necessary apologies on your behalf to both Mr. Parrish and Ms. Azarenka which were received rather well, but I want assurances from you that such hooliganism **will never be repeated** by you or any member of your esteemed team again as you continue on with the remaining tournaments of the season. Do I have your word on this?_

“What the fuck is she talking about?” Cosima says, handing her phone to Sarah while they wait for their flight to Tokyo to play a last-minute addition to their tour calendar. The end of the U.S. Open signifies the start of the Asian Swing – something Cosima is not historically invested in mainly because the travel expenses alone is enough to drive her right into the poorhouse. But with money a little easier now and at Sarah’s prodding, she decided to accept a wildcard in the Toray Pan Pacific Open before they head to Beijing for the China Open as scheduled. “We have nothing to lose and they’re paying us to just show up,” Sarah said, “I say we go.”

Sarah carefully reads Rachel’s email with an amused, mischievous grin. She nudges Felix with her elbow, getting his attention as he grabs the phone to have a better look. He instantly guffaws, confusing Cosima even more.

“What’s so funny?!?” And she lets out an awkward smile, wanting to be let in on the joke.

Felix is still laughing while he attempts to clue her in. “We didn’t know she was right there next door,” and he slaps his thigh in the midst of his infectious laughing fit.

“Delphine was so drunk...” Sarah says as her shoulders shake with the chuckles.

The laughter dies down at the mention of a name Cosima only utters when she knows she’s completely alone. And as if doused with cold water, her coach and physio cleared their throats and straightened up in their seats in an almost cartoonish manner. In the morning after the semifinals, Cosima only requested one thing from her team – “_You can make me do whatever you want, just don’t go near that subject,” _that subject being Delphine. She said it amidst tears in the suite’s bedroom where she retreated after she disclosed to the blonde that she knew about her boyfriend. At the sound of the door closing, she cried at the foot of the bed and while she thought she was being quiet, her sobs still woke Sarah up, who then shook a snoring Felix awake.

“It wasn’t us making the noise,” Sarah explains. It was...”

“Blondie Voldie,” Felix supplies quickly while subtly wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.

“Blondie Vol...Really guys?!?” And Cosima cocks an eyebrow at what her trainer just said.

“Yeah,” and he shrugs. “She-who-must-not-be-named is quite a mouthful, love,” he says as he returns her phone to her, “So we shortened it – Blondie Voldie. It has a nice ring to it, don't you think?”

Sarah interrupts. “Do we continue the story or...”

Cosima nods. “Yeah, yeah. I want to know what Rachel is yapping about.” That’s not exactly the truth - she wants to know as much as she can about what happened that night at the suite. Anything to put more contexts to the sight that she stumbled upon when she left her own room to go catch up with her team – of Delphine slumped on the couch in her undergarments – which stoked in her a need to be overprotective and concerned, never mind if there is a boyfriend in the picture.

“Somehow during that night,” Sarah says, “Blondie Vol...She...managed to turn on the TV. Your match was on replay.” And even if her coach is trying to sound unaffected, Cosima can hear a hint of amusement clearly bubbling out from her voice.

“She was trying to mimic Azarenka’s grunts,” Felix managed to say with a straight face. “She said it kinda sounded like her when she fakes an orgasm. And then she gave us a demonstration -”

“Of the sound she makes while trying to fake it,” Sarah quickly interrupts with a strong need to clarify, “not what she’s doing while trying to fake it.” And Felix snorts again, “You gotta admit," he says to Sarah amidst snickers, "that the likeness is quite uncanny.”

“Okay,” Cosima drawls before going back to her phone again. In the corner of her eye, she can see her coach and physio talking to each other, presumably about the other funny things that went down that night. She wears her earphones, pretending to shut them out, and she hears them talking about Delphine speaking in French and about her being a fun drunk.

To say that she has been lamenting her choices that night is an understatement. She knows she could have handled the loss better. She knows she could have handled everything else better. She shouldn’t have used Shay when she knew she wouldn’t be 100% into it, when she knew that flashes of someone else will play in her mind the entire night. She should have just gotten back to the hotel, drink with her team, and talk to Delphine. Maybe if she did that, she could have avoided this dodgy situation.

She switches from looking at her business email account to check on her personal email. No new messages just like yesterday, or two days ago, or the week before. There are only a handful of people who knew about conima.seahouse – Sarah, Felix, her parents, a couple of cousins, and Delphine. She taps on their last conversation and wanted nothing more but to reach out and apologize, but afraid that that ship has sailed, she exits the thread.

Instead of putting her phone down though, she taps on the new message button, typing away a letter she doesn’t intend to send.

_Dear Delphine,_

_I don’t know what to say. Somehow an “I’m sorry” is not enough, I think. But that’s what I want to say first. I’m sorry for what I said, for what happened that morning. I have no right to be angry at you – you didn’t do anything wrong. But I can say the same thing about me – I didn’t do anything wrong and I don’t deserve what you did. Still..._ Reading what she wrote, cringing at how needy it reads, she can't help but be happy that the blonde will never get to read this.

_I just got back to playing tennis a couple of days ago. The day after that morning, we went for an MRI and we got lucky because there were no ligament tears. The ankle was tender and swollen though, so I was advised to take it easy for a week. _

_I went home to San Fran after New York. I gave Sarah and Felix the week off but I stayed two more days in New York because of some commitments I had with my sponsors and my agent. On the way to the airport, I wanted to make a stop to the theater or to your studio to...I don’t know, I guess explain, talk. But mostly because I just want to see you again. _

_So I’m sorry for the way things ended that morning. I wish we can move past this and still talk. I really miss getting emails from you_... “You can be honest,” Cosima thinks as she reads the last line of the letter. “You’re not sending it to her anyway.”

_I miss you. I think I’m falling for you. No, I think that already happened. And I think you know._

_Anyway, don’t mind me. I’m off to Tokyo for a tournament in a few minutes. I wish you good luck with the rest of your performance. I read it’s going very well. _She came across a review of Sandwich Board in the New York Times and although they pointed out what they didn’t like, the dislikes were outnumbered by what they actually liked and loved – one of which is Delphine’s performance.

Cosima gives the email one last read before putting her phone back in her pocket when the announcement that their flight is boarding blared in from the speakers. The letter joins the other seven emails in the draft folder, all with one intended recipient and all never reaching the recipient’s inbox.

“Last push,” Sarah says to her as she gets up from her seat, “let’s get to it.” 

\-----

**September 20, 2013**

_No it’s okay :). A lot of people had asked me that and I think I’ve given a lot of different answers to it. But all of them are half-truths at best. We promised to be honest with each other so I’m going to tell you the real reason._

Delphine doesn’t know why she does this - why she continues to immerse in the words and secrets that she and Cosima shared over emails even if every reply reminds her of how she managed to ruin things before it even started. But she couldn’t help herself from back-reading whenever she misses her. She searched for a particular letter – one of the longer ones that Cosima wrote – and when Delphine found it, she can’t help but hang on to the American’s every shared word, hoping that reading it will give her the strength to write to her and at least tell her she’s sorry.

_I was dead-set on accepting that wildcard for the U.S. Open – excited even - until the day before formally announcing that I'm accepting it. I was practicing while waiting for my Mom to finish up with her classes when this girl shows up on court. Her name is Helena. Remember that girl I told you about - the one that double-bageled me when I was 8? That was her :). When I was in juniors she was...the Serena of my time – so good and dominant she'll gut you like a fish in a match. She got accepted to Vanderbilt but opted to turn pro which made sense - play now while you’re still young and you can still adjust; spend your healthiest years getting used to the tour and all; and when you’ve done everything in tennis, then life after tennis – school, family, kids, other interests – can begin. _

_So I asked her for tips, what to expect during the transition from the juniors, what to look out for, who’s a bitch and who’s nice on tour, the works. She was very helpful. Anyway, Mom was running late so we headed to a cafe near the tennis courts. I got chai and a cinnamon roll, while she went for a glass of water. Now remember - this is somebody I grew up with so I knew she can put it away, food-wise. But I tried not to find it odd –I thought maybe she’s on a special diet in preparation for a tournament. Long story short, I left the cafe when Mom texted that she’s waiting for me in the court and when I got there, she was talking with somebody who coaches for the USTA. I told him I ran into Helena, and the guy told me – “thanks. I was wondering where she went, her shift hasn’t ended yet.” _

_It turns out that to make ends meet while touring, Helena works for the USTA as a coach’s assistant - sometimes she’s a gofer, sometimes she charts matches for them. She was apparently bleeding money, entering and losing in tournaments within the same day and sometimes within the same hour. She isn’t winning enough to pay for tournament fees, or to hire a coach, or to travel extensively. That night I went to bed thinking “Helena is so good, way better than me. So where would I go if I don’t reach my potential? Where do I end up if I flame out in the pros?”_

_So instead of playing in a grand slam, I decided to work on my life outside tennis. I went to college and came up with an ambitious but doable and appealing Plan B. I get my Bio degree, my M.A., then a doctorate, and I become a scientist. I figured that if tennis won’t be in the picture, I get the chance to enrich my life with my love for science. I even tried to move past tennis – I didn’t touch a racquet for a year just to get a feel of what life looks like without it. And then one day, I was going back to my dorm from the lab when I bumped into an old coach who was hired by Stanford to coach the men's tennis team. He was quite surprised that I’m enrolled in the university and not even playing tennis anymore. He eventually convinced me to join the women's tennis team and somehow, I found myself enjoying balancing school and tennis. _

_After college, I gave myself a deadline - three years to make a dent in tennis then I enroll in grad school. I was actually a tournament away from retiring this year. Had I not won in Nuremberg, maybe I would be playing my last professional match in New York. But then somehow, things turned around. Something clicked after this year’s French Open – I don’t really know what it is – maybe it’s the realization that all these would be over by the end of the year if nothing substantial happens? Maybe the pressure being lifted off my shoulders at knowing that it’ll be over soon helped me? I don’t really know. _

_And that’s how chai and a cinnamon roll changed my life :). _

_I don’t know why I’m saddling you with these things and why I find it easy to say them to you. I guess because we’re from different worlds - you’re seeing these things I’m confiding to you from your viewpoint and telling me what you really think about it, no hidden agenda. I kinda like that. ;) _

“Busy?” Océane says in the dressing room. She didn’t even notice that her co-actors have already left for the night, or that her friend knocked and let herself in when she didn’t respond.

“Non,” Delphine answers, “not really,” and she puts her phone on the table beside her.

“Come on,” Océane says as she puts a hand on the blonde’s shoulder. “You look like you can use a night out,” and she grabs Delphine’s coat hanging on a nearby chair and hands it to her. Océane has been trying to find way to cheer up her friend ever since she found out what happened during the only night that she wasn’t on-stage. And while she has politely declined every time she invites her out, tonight – with only two shows left on their play’s run - she’s not taking no for an answer. “Drink with me Cormier. After this play, when do we get to see each other again huh?”

Delphine lets out a sigh. It’s been a long day, a longer month, and Océane has been patient and supportive. Giving in to her pesky friend is the least she could do so she takes the coat and grabs her belongings. “Where are we going?”

Océane gives her a wink as they leave the room and exit the theater. “There’s a bar about five blocks away from here that sells Don de Dieu on tap,” she says while Delphine lights her cigarette. “I figured a piece of home can cheer you up a bit.”

And even if there’s a dark cloud hanging over her head that kind of feels like a two-week hangover, Delphine couldn’t help but grin. “Okay, but just one round,” she says before they started walking, the memory of the last time her alcohol consumption got way out of hand still very fresh in her mind. “How is the screenplay going by the way?” She then asks while trying to cast away thoughts of a dreadlocked brunette that came with the memory of her last sip of alcohol. A week ago, a small film company formally showed interest in adapting Sandwich Board into a feature film. It is an unexpected but welcome development and Delphine is naturally happy for her friend’s break.

“It’s going slow,” and Océane shrugs in between puffs of her own cigarette. “If this takes flight – and that’s a big if – will you be on board as Charlie?”

“Are you just saying that to cheer me up?” Delphine retorts jokingly. “Because I’d take it either way, I don’t care.”

“I mean it,” she answers with a smirk before taking another puff. “You know, I’ve been meaning to say to you all month that fame has made you cheeky.”

Delphine stops at her tracks, the cigarette making its way in between her lips suspended mid-air and temporarily stuck in between her fingers. “It’s not fame,” she finally lets out, earning a curious look from her friend who was slightly walking ahead of her.

“It’s her,” she quietly supplies.

Océane’s curious look slowly transforms into a look of concern as she stops walking and takes a seat on a nearby bench. When she found out about what happened to her friend on the day she took a day-off from the play, she didn’t know which fire to put out first – her break-up with Martial or how she saw Cosima essentially getting lucky with another girl. She remembered picking the former, mainly because it’s the easier of the two fires to tend to.

_“So he came all the way here to talk? What happened?”_ She remembered asking Delphine in the same back alley while they smoked - her friend sporting dark sunglasses to hide tired, all-cried-out eyes. Somehow, she got a sense even then that the tears weren’t all for Martial.

“_Something that should have had happened six months ago, maybe even a year ago,_” her friend answered in between stubbing an old cigarette and lighting a new one. “_He did most of the talking and he had some very good points – ‘you don’t throw away almost 3 years’; ‘whatever the problem is we can make it work, we’ve been making it work’; ‘you and I, we’re from the same world’._” Océane remembers how every quip was punctuated by a lungful of cigarette smoke, and how the last remark sounded like an epiphany.

“_What did you say?_” She asked her before giving her a sip of her coffee.

“_Not much...just the truth,_” Delphine said then. “_It’s hard to put into words the intricacies of falling out of love with someone. I told him that we’re from the same world, yet we don’t communicate, don’t match. We’ve been trying and it’s not working. I told him it’s not the distance – him in L.A., me in wherever. It’s more than that. The distance is still there even when we’re in the same place, in the same house._”

Océane didn’t press on after that. She figured that if her friend wanted to talk about the other bigger thing weighing her down, she would do so when she’s ready. _“This conversation should be happening over alcohol,”_ she thinks to herself, but quickly quashes the thought as Delphine sits beside her now and begins to talk.

“It’s weird, mon amie,” Delphine says while running her hands through her hair, “I’ve only known her a month and somehow...” She pauses to regain her composure or to find the right words, “somehow she has become a part of my life in a way that Martial never did...that nobody ever did. And I screwed it up before it even started.”

“You can’t just send her a letter? A message? A phone call?” Océane asks. “I mean does it have to be so definitively over after what happened?”

Delphine considers her friend’s words. Sure she can send her an email, maybe even call her – she read somewhere that she’s in Japan for a tournament. It’s morning there now and she’s probably awake, practicing or just passing the time with her team. “I don’t know,” she says instead. “I wouldn’t know what to say...how to start. If she even wants to talk to me or have anything to do with me...”

“_You can say what you just said right now,_” she thinks and she was about to say it but her friend already stood up to continue walking to the pub. “Besides,” Delphine adds as Océane follows her lead, “she needs to focus on her tournaments right now. Maybe after her season...”

Océane wanted to say more - something along the lines of not delaying something as big and life-altering as this; something about being a little brave and letting the chips fall where they may. But she bit her tongue. Delphine is one of her oldest friends – they’ve known each other since they were 15 – and this is the first time she’s seeing her in this light: confused, lost, and scared of the possibilities. The right words to say escape her so the least she can do is try to understand where Delphine is coming from while trying to offer a small piece of home for her tired mind and heart.

\-----

**September 25, 2013**

_"Loneliness is a prerequisite in tennis," _Cosima remembers writing to Delphine shortly after the Rogers Cup when the blonde asked her how she deals with a loss. She didn't know why she chose to say that - even if it's the truth, there are surely other nuggets about losing that are less depressing. She could have said what Sarah always tells her after losing a match: _"It's only losing if we don't learn something, so let's learn a few things from it, yeah?"_ Or what Felix clings on to after a stinging defeat: _"It's just a game. We can have nip at the bar today and tomorrow, we can get back to it - it's not running off anywhere." _

But her take is the truth she believes in the most and even in the earlier days of their correspondence, she had wanted to give Delphine an idea of who she is and how she sees the world, in the hopes that the blonde would find her insights interesting enough for her to continue their conversation.

_"There are many things about tennis that you can associate with loneliness - being alone in the court; being on the road 10 months a year; not being able to find somebody or be with somebody long enough for them to understand what you do, why you do it, and how you feel; the solitude that comes from both winning and losing because you're all alone in the forest," _she remembered saying to explain herself. _"You not only have to be okay with loneliness - you have to accept it wholeheartedly - or else you wouldn't make it to the next tournament."_

Cosima thinks about those words now as she looks out to the buildings and roads from the backseat window of the tournament car driving her back to the hotel. The loss today to Venus Williams is a loss she has gotten used to since she joined the professional tour - a defeat that starts out as a promising win only for it to reveal its true form as the match progresses and as Cosima lets all her insecurities as a tennis player take over. She won the first set, 6-4 and served for the match at 5-4 in the second set. Then the match turned - something switched on at the other side of the court and Venus began reading her serve like a book, making the necessary adjustments and risks that paid dividends.

In a blink of an eye, 5-4 became 5-all, then 5-6, and before she knew it, they were heading to the third set as she got stuck at 5 games, failing to overcome the hump or match her opponent's gear change. She rued about her missed chances while in the third set - a backhand that sailed wide, a forehand that clipped the wrong side of the net, a costly double fault - and the lack of focus on what's happening on court showed as she bowed out at 6-3.

She's gotten used to this - to a close but no cigar afternoon on a tennis court. But just because she's used to it doesn't mean it doesn't sting. Every loss still hurts - even if Cosima tries to get used to it, tries to learn from it, and tries to have a beer at the end of the day before getting back on the saddle again the next day. Losing sucks, yes, but losing when you're already knocking at victory's door hurts more. Cosima would rather deal with a blowout defeat than with a loss that is only a few loose points or errors away from being a win.

Under ordinary circumstances, the match and how she lost will engulf every corner of Cosima’s mind for days. But homesickness and missing somebody 7,000 miles away from where she is has a funny effect on her thoughts. Her realization this afternoon still came as a surprise. Without meaning to - Cosima thinks as she reads letter after letter - Delphine's words have become a salve that soothes the pangs of loneliness that comes with the sport she chose to devote the best years of her life to. The blonde’s letters didn’t instantly make her forget a defeat or immediately made her happy - they go beyond being a quick fix. The letters and the possibility of Delphine has given Cosima hope, something important to look forward to every day aside from stepping on a court to try to eke out a win.

Which is why what happened between them hurts more, she thinks now. Cosima always expected misery from tennis - from losses snatched from the jaws of victory; from travelling far and wide for a tournament only to lose in the earlier rounds; and from unfortunate and painful injuries that spell the difference between a win and a loss. In the few weeks she's known her, she never expected loneliness of any form to have even an inch of a connotation with Delphine. Yet somehow, work seemed to have ebbed through her personal life - close but no cigar is beginning to be applicable to Delphine as well. And it's driving her mad.

"Arigato gozaimasu," she says with the best smile she can come up with under the circumstances when the car reached the hotel. The driver regards her with a ready smile, opening the latch for the compartment as a bellhop takes out a baggage trolley to wheel in her bags of tennis gear. Like in New York, she had asked her team to go back to the hotel after she lost. After all, they will have time to talk about their match insights in the coming days that are filled with travelling and practices. She can handle the things that had to be immediately dealt with after a defeat on her own - the press, cooling down, and talking with WTA officials about logistics for the next tournament.

Before leaving the stadium, Cosima was asked by the WTA to stay one more day in Tokyo for fan events and for interviews that can be turned into online content and features. The press responsibilities bothered her before when all she wanted was to be left alone to figure out her game and her place in tennis. Now, she has come to accept it as part and parcel of her job. Better to get to them quickly so she can move on to more important matters. She was in the front desk, making arrangements to stay one more day so she can tend to the unexpected WTA commitments when she saw a familiar figure sitting by the hotel bar. With their rooms secured, she walks to the bar and takes the empty seat.

"I'll take a glass of whatever she's having," Cosima says to the bartender as Sarah looks up from her phone.

"Hey, you're back," Sarah says before taking a healthy gulp of her beer. "You just missed Fee," she added as she signals for a refill, "he had a nip or two before heading to his room when the headache got too bad."

The bartender sets Cosima's beer in front of her along with a napkin and a cork coaster. She takes her first sip of the cold brew and wondered why a mug of beer in a foreign bar always tastes better than the ones in the bar two blocks away from her San Francisco apartment. "I am sorry about today," she finally said when the first sip went down smoothly. "I couldn't close it…"

"Is it the ankle?" Sarah asks. "Was there any pain? Any discomfort?"

"No," Cosima sighs. The loss would be easier to swallow if something did hurt. But she is match-fit and feels perfectly fine which gives her no other excuse except for the reality that she couldn't finish off the match the way she started it.

"Then that's a victory all on its own," Sarah replies, finally looking at her instead of her phone. "Remember, we took this tournament because we want you to get used to playing with tight ankle taping. So if you're saying that you won two matches against quality opposition before almost winning against Venus, and nothing hurts and you're moving well, then that's a win for me and Fee." Cosima can sense that she was about to say more but they were interrupted by her coach's beeping phone.

"Everything okay?" Cosima asks when she sees Sarah's brows furrowed at the message she received.

"Yeah, yeah, everything's fine," Sarah says before letting out a tired exhale. "It's...Cal texting me that she just dropped off Kira at Siobhan's…"

"Oh!" Cosima says before taking another swig at her beer. "I didn't know he's back in the picture again…"

"Is it time for us to talk about non-tennis things?" Sarah asks, turning the tables. "Because I'm down for it if you are."

Cosima considers Sarah's words. There are things about Delphine that she wants to ask and confide about, but she doesn't really know where to begin. "Well, it's still about tennis," she says, choosing to pivot. "If you and Cal are trying to make it work again, maybe a full tennis calendar isn't the most convenient and conducive environment for that. I mean maybe we can work out an arrangement - a schedule where you'll have more time to be at home. Like right now for example," she says gesticulating wildly, "instead of being here in a hotel bar in Tokyo for the last push, you can be at home with Kira and Cal. Be a family. That's more important than all this..."

Sarah drinks her beer as Cosima talked, nodding her head and running her hands through her unkempt hair. "I'm afraid that only solves one part of the problem," she reacts. "I'd be at one place but he'd be elsewhere. He's coming back to Reykjavik in two or three days, then I don't know when I'll see him again." She pops some mixed nuts into her mouth before washing it down with her beer. "It won't work until both of us can voluntarily stay in one place - long enough to figure out if we can stand each other or not…"

"I've always liked Cal," Cosima muses, unsure what else to say knowing how complicated her coach's relationship with her child’s father is.

"I like Delphine," she replies and Cosima raises her eyebrows as if reminding her that the topic is off-limits. "Hey," Sarah says, sensing her weak warning, "as your coach I promised never to bring it up. But in this bar, I'm not your coach. We're wearing our friends hats now so I can say her name. And we can talk about it. No judgement, no high horse."

Cosima sighs. It had to happen sooner or later, promises or no promises. "You know what I don't get…" She says along with a sarcastic smirk, "you've never liked any of the girls I was with before and suddenly, here you are partying with Delphine, having little inside jokes and stories about that night. Talking about how she's a fun drunk and all that…"

"Oh, so you were eavesdropping?" Sarah quips before finishing off her beer and ordering a shot of bourbon for her and her friend.

"Kinda hard not to when you keep talking and laughing about it," Cosima mutters. "Level with me here - Is it the fame thing? Because she's famous she's easier to like?"

"You don't see it do you?" She asks with a straight face.

"See what?" And Cosima takes a small sip of the bourbon even if hard alcohol has never been her choice of liquid courage.

"You finally got someone who for a change, actually wants to give you something," Sarah said with a tinge of irritation when Cosima still doesn't understand what she's trying to tell her. "It's not the actress thing, it's that. All the girls that came before all want to take things from you - Emi whatever her last name is couldn't wait to be a tennis WAG when you told her you're going pro. She couldn't wait to travel with you, soak in the lifestyle, show you off. It's a good thing you broke up with her before we hit the road."

"She wouldn't have a lot to show off about if we were still together when we started," Cosima says, agreeing somewhat to her friend's insight while remembering their early struggles to get her rankings up in the ITF tour.

Sarah finishes off her bourbon and chose to get another beer to chase it off. "And right about this time last year, you were this close to hiring Davydov when Fee was still on the fence about joining us. And that girl wanted nothing more than to shit where she eats, pardon my French. She wants to get not just into your pants but also in your pockets as well…"

"And Delphine? How can you tell that she isn't going to want to take eventually?" Cosima asks, invested in Sarah's take on the matter.

"Maybe she will...eventually. But you're pretty convinced that that's over before it really started, aren't you? So that doesn't really matter," Sarah says, goading her friend. “And that night we trashed that suite, all she kept talking and asking about is what we can do to help you. What she can do to make things better for you, how to make things at least a little bearable. She was thinking about taking you to Coney Island the next day for chrissakes, even asked us when we’re leaving New York so she can make time for it just in case you'd want to hole up in your room instead of going out. I was pretty hammered but I remember that you're all she talked about, worried about. As your friend, don't you think that's enough reason for me to like her?"

Cosima lets her friend put her points across before speaking again. "That's great and all," she ends up saying with a hand on her forehead, "but she's with someone."

"You sure about that?" Sarah replies with a know-it-all grin. "That night she told us she no longer has to fake orgasms because she just broke up with that director bloke...And it's not hard to figure out why, isn't it?"

Cosima lets Sarah's words simmer in her head before allowing the regret to wash over her. Suddenly, she remembers what Delphine said after they kissed - _"After your tournament we can talk about it." _

"Are you sitting here," Sarah continues to talk, "regretting what -_ who_ \- you did that night now?"

"Okay, how the hell did you know that?" Cosima asks, surprised that Sarah knew about her impulse fuck.

"She saw you and Davydov necking in the hallway, among other things," she answers.

"Oh fuck," and Cosima finishes off her beer and her bourbon at the realization as to why Delphine was so pissed at her that morning. "I should have stuck to the tennis talk…"

"It's not too late you know," Sarah says while patting her back and taking a gulp. "You can still make it work if you want to. Though I wish you would," she says with a chuckle, "because pining isn't a good look for you."

"I think I'm gonna take a walk," Cosima says before emptying the glasses set in front of her. "Process things or whatever," and she stands up as Sarah nods her head in agreement. "We're staying another day here by the way," she says as she asks the bartender for the tab.

"Don't worry about it," Sarah says, signalling to the bartender that she's paying, "go on and clear your head." And with a sad smile, Cosima leaves. There is a lot of new information to process and none of them is tennis-related. She chooses to indulge on her thoughts of Delphine for now, trying to ponder her next move. The tennis can wait until tomorrow - it's not running off to anywhere anyway. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usual tennis things:
> 
> *Match charting in general is essentially trying to generate stats for a match. It's useful for tennis players and interesting for tennis fans. It's somewhat similar to what Sarah does while watching a match in Chapter 8.  
*WTA means Women's Tennis Association. It's essentially the main organizing arm of women's professional tennis. The WTA Tour is the top-tier level of tournament in women's tennis.  
*ITF means International Tennis Federation. They have a body of smaller, lower-tiered tournaments for tennis players trying to earn enough ranking points to be eligible for WTA-level tournaments.  
*In this AU, Cosima has already toiled through the ITF-level tournaments and is already ranked high enough to qualify and join WTA-level tournaments.  
*Tennis WAG = Tennis Wives and Girlfriends
> 
> Thank you again for the kind words and the interest for this fic. The holiday season has been a busy one for me and I think I have to apologize in advance if I won't be able to post an update before 2019 ends. Still, I will try my best to get to it :) Feedback is as usual always welcome so let me know what you think.


	13. Make a Move

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone had a great holiday! 
> 
> I would like to thank Corsan for generously translating a huge chunk of dialog in this chapter, thereby preventing me from butchering the French language :). Her translations are available at the endnotes.

**September 26, 2013 - Tokyo**

“A fan encounter?” Felix asks as he puts on his robe and makes his way to the bathroom.

“Yeah,” Cosima answers while Sarah rubs her eyes from a night of sleep that ended sometime in the early afternoon. “It’s kinda crazy, I do well in one slam and suddenly I get to have a die-hard fan.” The WTA commitment that required Cosima and her team to stay for one more day in Tokyo revolves around a contest where fans submitted short essays about their favorite tennis players. A fan from Japan who wrote about her was one of the winners and “apparently, we were supposed to film the meet and greet before the tournament, but there was a mix-up and it was rescheduled to today,” Cosima informs her team. The fan meet-up was mentioned in detail at the tail end of Rachel's last email, but Cosima - distracted by the story behind the noise complaints - didn't get to read that part. 

“What are we supposed to do for an entire day?” Sarah sluggishly inquires while reaching out for her phone on the nightstand. A day like this in the middle of the end of the season – a day with no practice to schedule, no matches to worry about, and no flights to barely catch – is a rare gift. So rare that Sarah has no idea what to do with it.

“I don’t know,” Cosima says as she puts on the finishing touches on her makeup while in her coach and trainer’s room. “You can take a guided tour of the city. The hotel will arrange it for you and it’s mostly free...”

“Yeah, I guess we can do that,” her coach replies while she stretched. “Or we can just hang out here for the rest of the day. Order room service on you...”

“A party in our PJs?” Felix says, peeking from the bathroom with facial wash all over his face. “I can work with that.”

“Sure, go ahead,” Cosima conceded as she re-wears her glasses. “I promise I’ll make it quick and then we can go somewhere nice to see the sights and eat somewhere that’s not a hotel restaurant for a change.”

“Or you can come up here, crawl under the covers with us, and watch TV,” Felix suggests as he continues massaging his face with the cream. “Season 2 of Blondie Voldie’s TV show premieres tonight...” He adds, his words muffled by the bathroom door but still audible.

Cosima pretends not to hear what he said. If she and Delphine were still exchanging letters, she probably would have wished her good luck. She probably would have said that she knew she’d be great. She probably would have listed all the things she’d love about the episode so that she can write about it in her letter. While the walk from last night managed to clear her head about the near-win over Venus yesterday, it didn’t help in expelling the could-haves and would-haves surrounding Delphine. By the time Cosima got back to her hotel room, she has surrendered to the fact that solitary walks in foreign cities are not the remedy for that particular malady.

“What did the fan even say?” Sarah asks with amusement as she caresses her nape to take care of a crick in her neck.

Cosima reaches out for her phone from her pocket and hands it to Sarah. “It was actually quite sweet...”

_My favorite player is Cosima Niehaus. I’ve always loved tennis but never really followed anybody until I saw her in the second round of the U.S. Open. She was up against Lucie Safarova and I remembered how angry she got when she lost the first set – and it sort of reminded me of my own frustrations as a student whenever I study a hard math lesson. She won that match and I ended up reading all about her after watching it. She’s my favorite because of how relatable she is. You look at her and she looks like you, not tall not that muscular - she is about my height yet she can go against taller and more powerful players; she gets frustrated and angry like everybody else. _

_Also I love her fashion sense – very kawaii and nobody looks like her. The way she plays tennis is also very different from the usual power-hitters – she doesn’t scream or shriek; she runs a lot and relies on instincts to make winners. _

_ Cosima Niehaus is my favorite because she’s both relatable and unique. How many other players can be described as that? _

“I like the bit about you being relatable and unique,” Sarah comments, not bothering to read the rest of the fan’s essay. “Where are you meeting?”

“Just in the lobby downstairs,” she answers, “do I look okay?” She asked. Cosima chose to trade the usual sporty cardigan and jogging pants for a pair of black harem pants, a cowl-neck patchwork sweater, and the brown oxford pumps she’d wanted to wear since she bought it in Europe during the clay season.

“Yeah,” Felix answers as he wipes his face with a soft towel, “you look like yourself. The fan would get a kick out of it.” And with a wink, Cosima takes one final look at the mirror and leaves the room. She’s making good time, she thought, as she receives a text from Pam - the WTA event coordinator - saying they’re already in the lobby waiting for her. She didn’t bother replying when the elevator doors opened for her to hop in. 

On the quick ride down, she made sure to run over the things she knew about the contest winner. Her name is Nana, she’s 20 years old and she's in college. She’s an English major at the Japan Women’s University – which explains the absence of a translator. Confident that she’s got all the bases covered, she walks into the lobby where a small camera crew is already setting up their equipment.

“Hi!” Cosima says as she walks to the group. Pam stands up, shaking her hand and giving her a polite cheek kiss. “I was about to call your room when you didn’t reply,” she says. “Cosima, I’d like you to meet Nana. Nana-San this is Cosima Niehaus.”

“Konnichiwa,” the woman, only a few years younger than her says with a deep and long bow. And remembering the things she read in a book about Japanese etiquette during the long flight from San Francisco, Cosima tries to mimic the bow Nana is giving as a way to thank her and show her respect. “Konnichiwa, Nana-San,” she replies. “I read your letter. Thank you.”

Nana blushes as she re-takes her seat. “You’re very welcome,” she says in accented but perfectly understandable English. “I meant every word I wrote...I can’t believe I won and I’m meeting my hero,” she managed to squeal out.

“You know what they say, never meet your heroes...” Cosima quips but is met by searching eyes – her comment obviously flying over Nana’s head. The tennis player smiles, returning the grin her fan is giving her as she wears the lapel mic handed to her by a crew member.

“Okay now that you’re properly introduced,” Pam interjects, “we’ll give Nana her 15 minutes with you where she can get to know you more. Now, we’ve already briefed her about what you guys can talk about so I don’t think you’d need me here for the entire chit-chat,” she added as she takes a sit beside the camera crew. “I’ll come back when you’re time is up.”

Cosima watches as Nana fidgets in her seat while trying to regain her composure. “Sorry,” the fan says still giggling, “I just can’t believe I’m meeting you.”

“It’s okay,” she reassures, “I was kinda like you when I met Justine Henin for the first time– had to remind myself that I’m a pro just like her - sans the grand slams, the killer serve, and the sweet one-handed backhand of course. So I’m just like you - without the cute apple haircut and the sunny disposition,” she self-deprecates.

“She is your idol?” Nana asks.

“Yeah, one of my favorites,” Cosima answers, “She’s the one who broke the mold for us. She’s a living, breathing example that height is not always might in tennis.” It was an honest answer, Cosima muses to herself, remembering what Justine told her in the locker room of the first grand slam she ever qualified for – the 2011 Australian Open. “_You have to make your mark now_ _because_ _shorter girls like us tend to have shorter careers..._” Oddly enough, those words became a self-fulfilling prophecy – it was the last grand slam that Justine ever played before permanently retiring from tennis at only 29 years old.

Nana smiles, content with Cosima’s answer. “I agree. But I was watching the match yesterday and I am sad whenever you lose.”

This is new territory for Cosima – trying to offer comfort to a stranger who is somehow invested in her tennis journey. She never had to worry about it before: her parents and her team understand the nature of the sport, having been around tennis for quite some time now. She wonders now about one of the many what-could-haves of that last night in the U.S. Open – if Delphine needed to be comforted about the loss because she’s grown invested in her. “I’m sorry I couldn’t win it,” she answers Nana, “there are just days when you can’t close out a match because the opponent wouldn’t let you.” _And because I can be perpetual choke machine sometimes_, she thinks but holds back from sharing the thought. 

“How do you deal with a loss?” Nana inquires. “Do you get angry at yourself?”

_I make very bad decisions – fuck another woman I’m not that into to forget about the loss being one._ “I try to learn from it,” Cosima chose to say instead, re-echoing Sarah’s train of thought. “I tell myself that it’s only a loss if I don’t learn anything from it.” _The only thing I learned from sleeping with Shay is that Delphine apparently saw us and now I feel incredibly stupid and small._ “So I go hard on myself to learn from a loss and try to not do it again.” _I relish in the punishment of Delphine’s silence – I deserve it_, she thinks.

Nana nods. “That’s very inspiring,” she says with awe. “I wonder also how you deal with all the travelling. Pam-San said you’re going to China next and that you came from San Francisco. Don’t you miss home?”

_I miss her. _“Yeah, of course, it’s only natural to be homesick,” she answers, trying her best to stay present for the interview. “But I’m used to it. On the upside, I get to visit a lot of beautiful places – places that would be out of my reach if I’m not a tennis player. So there is a lot of gratefulness that counters the homesickness and all the tiring trips.”

“This year, what is your favorite place to have visited?” Nana asks. “Of course other than Tokyo...I’ve never been outside Japan and I would like some travel and destination tips.”

Cosima smiles before sighing. The question, most likely pre-approved by Pam, may be generic and harmless but the answer to it is deeply personal. There is only one place she can think of that highlights the upsides of her tennis season this year - and lying about it would blemish its memories and importance. 

\----- 

**September 27, 2013 – Los Angeles**

“Why am I doing this alone?” Delphine asks as she wears a mic lapel before sitting next to a Season 2 poster of Totentanz in a small room with black walls.

“Because everyone knows,” Aldous answers, “that you’re the star of this show.” She hated it when he steps into the picture to fluff her importance in Totentanz even if he knows that she fervently believes that the show is a team effort. “Not only are you the star – you are the Sun – everything about this show revolves around you and you deserve this.” 

Delphine tries to hide the scoff that comes as a reaction to the idea that her agent is trying to perpetuate. This show wouldn’t work without her, yes, but it also wouldn’t work without any of the boys; without the other cast members; without Lisa, their producers, and creators; without the hardworking crew and the team of writers; certainly without the fans. She wanted nothing more but to voice it out as Aldous checks his phone but somebody knocked at the door – “10 minutes before the first interview,” a sharply dressed woman who she recognized to be a network employee informs them.

She tries to look calm and collected. Apart from believing that Totentanz is a labor of love and teamwork, Delphine believes that she doesn’t do well in perpetual interviews required of press junkets such as this. She was pretty adamant at insisting that she wants to do this with a familiar and trusted face beside her –be it Lisa or Wallis or Pete or Greg or Albert. And Aldous blindsiding her - directing her to this room while Wallis and Greg, and Albert and Pete got escorted to separate rooms in tandem before giving her a collective “_it wasn’t our idea_” look - pisses her off immensely.

“Who’s up first?” Aldous asks without looking up from his phone.

“Monty Rivero of Entertainment Weekly,” she says before leaving. _Perfect_, Delphine thinks, as she hatches a last-minute plan to show her disdain for her agent.

“Aldous,” she says in her sweetest voice before he steps out of the interview room. And unlike the way he regarded the network employee, he actually paused whatever he’s doing on his phone to look at her. “Give Monty the go-ahead to ask his questions,” she directs.

Aldous’ leering eyes lit up. “Really?” He says, trying not to salivate at the prospect of his prized ward sharing juicy bits of her personal life, additional tidbits that he could sell and market.

“Yes,” she answers snappily. “I’m all alone in the forest anyway, might as well make the most out of it.” _All alone in the forest_, Delphine muses to herself. She has never uttered that phrase in her life until she met Cosima. Until she began to hold on to her every word, getting wrapped in wonder and awe at the way she talks about tennis and her life, and inexplicably wanting to bask in her light and in the warmth of her company; wanting nothing more than to spend days, weeks, and months missing her and actually getting to be with her at the end of a long wait.

“Alright,” Aldous answers before stepping out, reeling her away from the thoughts that have been having a field day in her mind since she last saw Cosima. She sits straight and runs a hand over her crisp white button-up as the door opens and Monty is escorted to his chair.

“Hi, Delphine,” he says as he walks in, “it’s very nice to catch up with you again.”

“Yes, it is,” she says giving the reporter polite kisses on both cheeks. “You’re looking handsome,” she adds, wanting to charm Monty right off the bat by noticing his new high comb-over hairstyle. A blush and a shy smile from the usually talkative entertainment columnist confirm that her ruse worked.

“You’ve had a busy month since we last saw each other,” he quips as he crosses his legs on his seat, “tell me about it.”

“Busy is the right term for it,” Delphine says with a smile. “I just came from New York - I arrived here yesterday. I did an off-Broadway play called Sandwich Board and it was such a freeing experience.”

“Freeing? That’s an interesting word to describe it. Care to elaborate now that you’re back in the formulaic cage of TV stardom?” Monty wisecracks.

“Well first of all, there’s nothing formulaic about Totentanz,” she says with a wry smile in a voice that can pass off as a backhanded quip. “You’ve seen the premiere and I think you would agree with that. And when you see the entire season, you’ll really agree with me. It’s equally as freeing as Sandwich Board – in the sense that both are about two women who are strong, conflicted, and are just trying to go through life in the most honest and respectable way that they can, given their circumstances. I say doing the play is freeing because I got to instantly see audience reactions –be it good or bad, as long as it elicits something in a person, that’s quite liberating for me. It’s very different from TV or from film where the end product has already been distilled by post-production, marketing, publicity.”

Delphine can see Monty accepting the answer, using it to jump from one question to another. “And I heard this play is going to be distilled and made into a feature film. You are attached to it and your friend is writing the script. Will we see your boyfriend, Martial Dodin, joining the mix and directing it?”

_“Make a move,_” Delphine remembers Océane saying to her during the wrap-up party on the night of the last staging. “_Don’t wait for her off season or whatever. Do something, anything now..._” And so she does.

“We are no longer dating,” she says matter-of-factly.

“Oh,” Monty says, the actress’ unusual candor about her personal life taking him by surprise. “Busy month indeed for you,” he banters, “is it safe to assume that the breakup is recent?”

“You can say that. It was quite recent,” Delphine replies as she can see from where she’s sitting that Aldous has returned to the interview room – looking ticked off that she didn’t inform him first about the demise of her personal relationship before publicly announcing it. “It happened a month ago,” and Aldous rubs his hand over his thinning hair, his petty irritation giving the blonde immense joy.

“I just have to ask why or if you want to share any details about it. Of course before we move on to talk about the topic at hand,” Monty says, trying to not push his luck by creating the impression that this is his last personal question for the actress.

Delphine isn’t sure if Monty watches tennis or if he even knows a thing about it, but had he asked her something about her presence in the U.S. Open, she would have been tempted to give him a meatier response. “It ended amicably if that’s what you’re asking,” she clarifies instead, “sometimes relationships just end.”

Monty nods. “I appreciate the honesty, Delphine,” he says. “Let’s talk about Totentanz. The first season is a surprise hit, which resulted in the addition of five more episodes on top of the original 10 that was ordered mid-Season 1. Can you tell me more about Johanna this season?”

_She’s in a really interesting place, _she’s supposed to say_, she has to make a lot of unpopular decisions that will be misunderstood._ “There are certain parallelisms between Johanna and me,” she chooses to say, going personal again. “They’re both at a complicated impasse that prevents them from going after what they want and what they need to do.”

“Complicated impasse,” Monty deliciously mutters, “can you talk more about them?”

“For Johanna it is all about being okay with the means to their intended ends. I don’t want to give anything away, but this season she’d have to go to bed with a lot of unsavory characters. And there would be times when her intentions and loyalties would be questioned,” Delphine says.

“And the other complicated impasse?” The reporter follows-up like an enthusiastic puppy about to be given a new chew toy.

Delphine clears her head. Of course she’s not going to disclose her feelings about Cosima to an entertainment reporter - that’s just too tacky and impersonal. But she needs to come up with words that would mean something to the dreadlocked brunette in the oft chance that she reads the article or watch the video that this interview will produce. “For me,” she pauses to clear her throat, “it’s overcoming the fear of the new and uncertain. It’s about finding the strength to back up what I feel I...need to do…and love. It’s about taking risks, going all in on something,” _someone_ \- she thinks, “and not being afraid to just let the chips fall where they may.”

“So you’re saying you’re going to do more theater?” Monty concludes, unable to grasp that she’s talking about her personal life and letting the opportunity to press for a juicier story wither on the vine.

“When interesting and risky projects come my way,” she grins, “I say why not.” From where she’s sitting, she can see Aldous sulking in a corner, clearly disagreeing with her answer. “But I do have some interesting film projects in the offing,” she adds, deciding to throw her agent a bone. “I have a film that’s starting to shoot really soon – it’s about a woman with borderline personality disorder who won the lottery.” The project is small compared to the other ventures Aldous has had his eye on, but the film was one of the roles she lined up for herself, badgering her agent to get her an audition for it. She feels that she’s a perfect fit to the character, and luckily, the director and producers share her sentiment. Publicly announcing it now would give Aldous no choice but to accept that she's moving forward with the project whether he agrees or not.

“When does filming start?” Monty asks - his interest obviously piqued.

“In a couple of weeks,” Delphine says with a grin, “and I’ll spend the unexpected downtime taking a well-deserved vacation, Monty.”

Going off script, dropping an unexpected personal update, committing to an independent film, and announcing she’ll be on vacation - this interview has it all in terms of pissing off her agent as much as he pissed her off. _Here’s my thank you for micromanaging me_, Delphine thinks as she gives Aldous a steely stare while Monty continues with his questions. This small act of defiance reminded her of one particular letter she wrote when Cosima asked her about the last time she stood up for herself - which made her smile even bigger and more genuine.

_“I was asked to go to this film festival_ – _a film I was in was going to be shown_,” she remembered writing. “_M_y_ agent told me not to wear high heels because a movie mogul who would be there is short and might feel intimidated. I was young, barely 22, and I had every intention to follow his instructions. But as I got ready, I realized that it was a stupid advice, so I looked for the highest heels I can find and wore it. If I need to make myself small for somebody to make themselves feel better, I say fuck them. _

With Monty’s questions all answered, he leaves the room five minutes over his allotted time, satisfied with the productive interview. Before an annoyed Aldous can even get a word in, Delphine speaks - “No more personal questions,” cutting off whatever patronizing lecture her agent had in mind with her cold request. She quickly checks her phone before the next reporter comes in, and though there are no new messages or emails from Cosima, she can’t help but be hopeful that maybe - just maybe - that will no longer be the case once she reads or sees this interview.

\-----

**September 28, 2013 - Beijing**

“We’re going to Moscow,” Sarah tentatively says as she ties her unruly hair while Cosima vomits in a bucket. Once her hands are free, she holds Cosima’s dreadlocks back, making sure that it doesn’t get sullied by the contents of her stomach.

“Who is the git that made her go to that dumpling thing?” Felix asks as he tries to soothe the American by rubbing her back with his palm. The dumpling fiasco in question happened yesterday when Cosima, along with a few other tennis players, were asked to participate in a dumpling making and tasting event that the WTA organized to drum up publicity for the tournament. “She can’t even cook instant ramen correctly and you expect her to make bloody dim sum from fucking scratch?” Felix angrily follows-up, suspecting that Cosima is suffering from a mild case of food poisoning caused by her limitations in the kitchen.

“Rachel Duncan,” Cosima supplies an answer to Felix’s question as her head emerges from the spit bucket, “über bitch.” And she hurls again. “What is this about Moscow now?” She asks as she grabs the towel beside her to wipe her face and mouth.

“We’re already on the road, all our visas are still valid the last time I checked,” Sarah explains while handing a bottle of water that Cosima instantly gulps, “and we’re going to Bulgaria anyway. I just thought we might need another tournament before it so I took a wildcard,” and Felix hands the tennis player an electrolyte drink.

Bulgaria – their last stop for this year - is Team Niehaus’ reward for winning four WTA titles this season. Come second week of October there would be a year-end championship tournament in the capital city of Sofia for WTA International Events winners like Cosima. “We need the momentum before we get there,” Sarah adds almost apologetically given her charge’s current state. This year is the first time that they ever qualified for such a prestigious champion’s tournament, and Sarah badly wants Cosima to do well there.

“Well I’ll be dipped in shit and rolled in breadcrumbs,” Cosima reacts, making the other players in the locker room look her way – with some even managing to sneak in a chuckle. “Fine,” she says, exasperated by all the hurling, dizziness, and the fatigue brought on by her very recent 7-6, 7-6 loss to the 40th-ranked Urszula Radwanska. It was an upset – not monumental given that she’s ranked only 23 spots higher than her opponent – but it still stings. Had she lost to Urszula’s big sister, Aga, maybe she would have had an easier time dealing with it. The vomiting and the runs are definitely not helping her cope with the defeat.

“Fuck me,” she says grabbing Sarah and Felix’s attention, “I’m not used to losing early anymore.” She’s feeling a little better now after her one-on-one with the bucket and she can’t help but voice out what she feels. “I don’t want to lose this early ever again.”

Sarah and Felix exchange knowing looks. They know Cosima to be strong-willed and stubborn, and if she says she’s never losing this early again, they have to be prepared to equip her with the weapons to make sure that happens.

“Oh fuck,” and with cat-like quickness her coach and trainer hand her a new bucket and prepares new towels and water by her side. “Let’s get over this first,” Felix says, “and then we go on our No-more-Round-1-losses Mission after.” 

\-----

**September 29, 2013 – Montreal**

“Maman? Maman?” Delphine bellows while tossing her house keys in the wicker basket, now darker in color and a bit frayed because of age. She can’t think of any other place to take some time off but Montreal and after spending a couple of days sleeping in and drinking wine at her house, she finally hopped into her car for the 1-hour drive to her childhood home.

She made sure to pick a day when she knew her Maman would be here, which is why the silence that welcomed her now is a bit disconcerting. Ever since she can remember, Suzanne Cormier held an office job as a translator for a big law firm in the city – using her proficiency in English and French to put food on the table. She started out as a departmental cog before rising from the ranks. And now, she is in charge of a small division consists of six or seven translators who make sure that files for lucrative cases and important clients are available in both French and English. She usually brings home work during weekends, staying in touch with her team of translators via email and video calls if she needs to get a hold of them.

“Maman?!?” She says louder as she walks towards the kitchen from the quiet living room. No Maman in sight there too. Delphine proceeds to light a cigarette and sit by the kitchen table, vividly remembering how adamant her mother was for her to learn to speak and write in English when she was still a child. “_C’est très utile et cela te servira quand tu seras plus âgée,”_ Maman said the first time she gave her a Francais-to-Anglais workbook right here in this kitchen. When the workbook remained untouched, she began bringing home tapes of English cartoons - which did the trick as a young Delphine picked up bits of English as she devoured one episode of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles after another.

Being here now - along with the recent memory of reading Cosima’s letter about her aborted plans to retire by the end of the year - is making her remember how her Maman suggested working with her at the law firm if the dancing or the acting didn’t pan out. “_You'll have a fallback_..._I can get you a job there,_” she said to her, which made her take a long drag on her cigarette then and now. It wasn’t because her Maman wasn’t supportive of her dreams – on the contrary, she paid for expensive dance classes before she got into the conservatory. It’s just that their idea of what a life well lived looks like is very different: Maman craves the stability of a 9-to-5 job and a sure paycheck; while she yearns to express herself, never mind the uncertainties along the way. Oddly enough, she got her first lucrative acting gig because she speaks English and the other actor in the running for the role does not. _“__Maman avait raison après tout__,__” _she remembered thinking then.

Delphine takes out a clean glass from the cupboard to get some water for her parched throat, figuring that perhaps Maman stepped out to run errands. With a cold glass in one hand and a cigarette in another, she can’t help but look back at the various uncertainties she weathered to get to where she is now – the car accident, the failed auditions, the days of bit roles and community theater, sleazy casting directors & moguls, and times when she barely had enough in her bank account to sustain her for a week. She’s sure that she’s used to dealing with uncertainties. After all, they are part and parcel of life as an actor in the same way that loneliness is innate in tennis.

So why is she now suddenly afraid of the uncertainty that is Cosima Niehaus? 

She was about to light another stick to rue about the lack of messages from the brunette and the disappointing news she has read about the cheeky American's tournaments in Asia when she heard noises coming near the shed. She stands up from her seat with her phone in hand - ready to call for help just in case something’s wrong, as she walks to where the sound is coming from. 

Crossing the small backyard, Delphine breathes a sigh of relief at the sight of her Maman tinkering with her Papa’s restored car at the garage. 

“Maman!” She says and finally she turns to face her. Her coveralls and her dirty blonde hair are soiled by engine oil, which made Delphine laugh. She’s not used to seeing her mother in such a state of disarray.

“Ma fille!” And she walks towards Delphine, wanting to hug her but noticing her greasy hands at the last minute, chose to join in on her daughter’s laughter instead. “Quelle surprise!” Suzanne exclaims as she gets a clean rag for her hands, “Je ne savais même pas que tu étais en ville!”

“Je suis arrivée cette semaine,” Delphine says, giving her Maman a kiss on both cheeks, not minding the sweat and gunk on her face. “I missed you. How are you? Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

“I missed you too,” she says, affectionately wrapping her now-cleaner hands around her daughter’s arm as they walk back inside the house. “And I finished all my take-home work yesterday so I have today free. I was just changing the oil in your Papa’s car.” And she washes her hands and arms on the kitchen’s farmhouse sink. “Tu as déjà mangé? Je peux te faire quelque chose…” 

“Non, Maman,” Delphine says, “I already ate before coming here. But some coffee would be nice,” and as soon as she said the word coffee, Suzanne began to brew a fresh pot. As the caffeine drips into the pot, Suzanne gets a recently-forgotten ashtray from the under sink cabinet and places it on the table in front of Delphine.

"Do you want one?" Delphine asks, giving the pack a shake for a cigarette stick to be ready for her mother’s picking.” 

Suzanne proudly smiles as she shakes her head. "Non, Merci. J’ai arrêté de fumer depuis trois mois,” which surprised Delphine. "I've already smoked my fair share of cigarettes," Maman explains, "and I also promised myself that I'd quit smoking before I turn 50." With this, Delphine began to second-guess whether she should light the cigarette between her lips - only for her Maman to pick up the familiar Zippo on the table to light it for her before grabbing a couple of mugs for their coffee.

"Apparemment, il n’y a pas que moi qui ait récemment arrêter quelque chose," she says as she pours their coffees. "I read in the paper that you and Martial broke up," and she sets the freshly-brewed cup of coffee on the table along with its every possible accoutrement - sugar, creamer, cinnamon, milk, cocoa. 

"Oui, Maman," Delphine quietly answers with a weak nod while putting a teaspoon of sugar and a shot of milk in her coffee. Suzanne takes the seat from across her, watching her daughter intently but not saying a word. She never meddled in any of her relationships, but Delphine still made sure to introduce someone she's seriously dating to her - and in the early months of her relationship with Martial, she made dinner at her house for them to meet. "_Il a l’air gentil,_" her Maman said when he left them alone in the dining table to use the bathroom, and she nodded at the approval she didn't need but still wanted.

"Okay," Maman said now while she drinks her coffee, though Delphine can sense that she wants to know more about what happened.

"Actually, something you said to me while Papa was sick made me end things with him," she tentatively discloses. "Cela m’a fait voir ma relation sous un angle différent… "

"Oh?" Suzanne exclaims. "What was it?"

Delphine sighs. She didn't come here to tell her mother the reason behind her most recent break-up. But something that has the potential to be serious and life-changing warrants a disclosure. "Something about choosing Papa everyday even when loving him wasn't easy…" She chose to say.

Suzanne smiles, surprising Delphine who expected her to ask for further explanation. She managed to finish her cigarette before Maman spoke again. "I expect you to introduce him to me, ma fille," she says while opening a tin of Danish cookies on the breakfast table. 

"Quoi Maman?" Delphine asks as she gets a cookie to go with her coffee.

"Whoever made you see and feel that Martial isn't the right choice for you - I expect to meet him," she says with a pregnant smile. 

Delphine lights another cigarette. "It's not a him, Maman. It's a her…" And as soon as she said those words, she searches her Maman's face - expecting surprise and even disapproval, but relieved when her confession was only met with warm curiosity. "Elle s’appelle Cosima. C’est une joueuse de Tennis." For a minute, Delphine thought that her Maman was reaching for a cigarette from her pack, deciding that smoking is the best way to cope with what she just shared. But instead, Maman reached out to hold her hand.

"Et bien j’espère la rencontrer," Suzanne simply says while running her thumb on the palm of Delphine's hand. "When do I get to meet her?"

Delphine flinches at that question but didn't let go of her mother's hand. “Je ne sais pas, Maman…”

"What do you mean you don't know?" She asks as her shy smile is replaced with mild confusion.

"We're not exactly together…" Delphine answers. "I don't even know if we will ever be together…"

Suzanne lets go of her daughter's hand to stand up and sit next to her. Delphine can only steal shy glances at her Maman, who she feels wants to know more about what she just said. "C’est arrivé si vite, je ne m’y attendais pas. Je ne m’attendais pas à Cosima," she tries to explain.

"I'm not sure if you know," Suzanne says, "but that car Papa left for you was actually a gift I gave him."

"Non, I didn't know," Delphine answers, welcoming the subject change but also getting slightly confused about why her Maman chose to say that now.

"You were four years old then," she continues her story, "and your Papa just got his first composition licensed. I remembered him telling me the story of how he learned to drive. He would sneak out at night to drive your grandfather's old Karmann Ghia. It had to be sold when your grandmother got sick, so I bought him one as a surprise. I can still remember the look on his face when we drove it home. It broke down four times before it even reached the garage," she says with a laugh and Delphine couldn't help but join in the laughter even if it's about something she doesn't quite grasp.

"It was…" and Suzanne furrowed her brows while she searches for the right words, "a junker, I think is the term? It was cheap, the seller listed it for 2,000 dollars but I got him to bring the price down to 1400. When your Papa left, all he took with him were his clothes, your lighter, and that car. I was actually happy that he didn't leave it here to rot."

Delphine stubs her cigarette and reaches out to hold her mother's outstretched hand. "I never knew what became of it until he visited you after your accident," she says. "He picked a time when he knew I would be out of the hospital because I had to report to the office. I was in the parking lot when I saw it. I couldn't believe it's the same car at first until I saw the license plate…"

"Why are you telling me this, Maman?" Delphine finally asks, holding on to her Maman's hand tighter.

"He wasn't easy...but in his own small way," Suzanne says, "he still chose me - même si ce n’est qu’une petite part de moi. He held onto it and made it better the best way he could. I always wondered what could have happened if I saw the car earlier. Les choses auraient pu être différentes pour nous…"

And at the sight of a tear rolling down her Maman's eye, Delphine feels as if she's six years old again, helplessly watching the strongest woman she knows getting swept by the emotions and memories of a person she continues to choose everyday with no rhyme or reason.

"So learn from what happened to me and your Papa, ma fille," Suzanne says while looking intently at her daughter. "What you and Cosima can have will never be easy, but it sure is better than living with all these hypotheticals…" Delphine nods, realizing too late that she's shedding a few tears of her own as well. 

"And when you find a way to make it work," Suzanne quips while wiping tears from her daughter's cheek, "promets moi que tu me la présenteras immédiatement."

Delphine spent the entire drive back to her house coming up with a plan to see Cosima so they can finally talk about the kiss and why she ended things with Martial. By the time she got stuck in rush hour highway traffic, she has already concocted a concrete plan: She'll be back in L.A. next week for a month-long shoot. She'll check when Cosima's season will end so she can accurately schedule a few days off from filming. She'll fly to San Francisco and hopefully meet her. She'll beg Felix to give her Cosima's address as a contingency just in case the dreadlocked brunette is reluctant to talk. She'll send an email to Cosima about this tonight. She will apologize. When they see each other again, she will ask if she can kiss her. She will let the chips fall where they may.

She hasn't even gotten to her front door when her phone dings - a notification that a video she might be interested in has been uploaded on YouTube. She makes her way to the yard facing the river, taking a seat on a red patio chair before pressing play. 

The video, _WTA Fan Encounter: Cosima Niehaus,_ instantly made her smile - the sight of Cosima looking more like her true self is always a welcome treat. She watches the fan ask her questions and she couldn't take her eyes away from watching Cosima's hands animatedly gesturing as she talks. She laughs at the American's jokes, wanting so badly to hear her voice again within the confines of a car or a room. 

And without warning, the plan went out the window the minute she heard Cosima's answer to the fan's last question.

_“This year, what is your favorite place that you visited?”_

Cosima looks to the fan, the cheeky smiles disappearing when she bites her lower lip in hesitation before giving a curt nod. 

"_My favorite...is definitely, no question...Pointe-Calumet in Quebec...Where you can see Montreal light up at night from across the river."_ She then looks straight into the camera with a tight but determined smile. "_After this season, I uhmm, intend to go back there...To see what awaits me,"_ she said.

"Cosima…" is all Delphine managed to say over and over again as she tries to figure out where she could be right at this moment. A quick search yielded the answer to her question - 2013 Kremlin Cup, Moscow. Her fingers continued to tap away while she chants the brunette’s name so she can make a phone call.

"Bonjour? C’est Delphine Cormier," she tells the other person on the line - a receptionist at the travel agency she uses for her out-of-town trips. "Je dois être dans le premier vol pour Moscou. Pouvez-vous me réserver un billet tout de suite, s'il vous plaît? Je vous remercie."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "C’est très utile et cela te servira quand tu seras plus âgée" - It is practical and it will come in handy when you’re older
> 
> "Maman avait raison après tout" - Maman was right after all
> 
> "Quelle surprise!" - This is a surprise!
> 
> "Je ne savais même pas que tu étais en ville!" - I didn’t even know you’re in town! 
> 
> "Je suis arrivée cette semaine" - I just arrived this week
> 
> "Tu as déjà mangé? Je peux te faire quelque chose" - Have you eaten? I can make you something.
> 
> "Non, Merci. J’ai arrêté de fumer depuis trois mois" - No, thank you. I quit smoking three months ago
> 
> "Apparemment, il n’y a pas que moi qui ait récemment arrêter quelque chose" - Apparently I'm not the only one who quit things recently
> 
> "Il a l’air gentil." - He seems nice.
> 
> "Cela m’a fait voir ma relation sous un angle différent …" - It made me see the relationship in a different perspective… 
> 
> "Quoi Maman ?" - What Maman?
> 
> "Elle s’appelle Cosima. C’est une joueuse de Tennis" - Her name is Cosima. She's a tennis player.
> 
> "Et bien j’espère la rencontrer" - Then I expect to meet her
> 
> "Je ne sais pas, Maman… " - I don't know, Maman...
> 
> "C’est arrivé si vite, je ne m’y attendais pas. Je ne m’attendais pas à Cosima" - It happened so fast, I didn't expect it. I didn't expect Cosima
> 
> "même si ce n’est qu’une petite part de moi" - even if it's just a small part of me
> 
> "Les choses auraient pu être différentes pour nous" - Things could have been different for us
> 
> "Promets moi que tu me la présenteras immédiatement" - promise me you would introduce us immediately
> 
> "Je dois être dans le premier vol pour Moscou. Pouvez-vous me réserver un billet tout de suite, s'il vous plaît? Je vous remercie." - I need to be in the earliest flight to Moscow. Can you reserve a ticket for me right away, please? Thank you.
> 
> *As always, thank you for the interest in this story. Let me know what you think, what works, and what doesn't.


	14. To Russia with Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey! :)
> 
> I'd skip the second to the last section if you want to keep things PG.

**September 29, 2013 **

The minute Delphine said _Moscou_, the receptionist transferred her call to an available travel agent who is luckily clocking in hours over the weekend. It turned out that getting to Moscow isn’t as easy as getting an expensive last-minute ticket and hopping in a plane. “You need a visa,” the travel agent who introduced herself as Kristina declares. When Delphine said she doesn’t have one, she heard papers being shuffled on the other end of the line.

“We can have it rushed and it can be ready in three days, minimum,” Kristina supplies, “but I would need you to drop by here now so that you can submit your passport and accomplish an application form.” Delphine agrees without even bothering to ask for her usual travel agent.

As soon as the call ended, she gets in her house to pick up the thin beige messenger bag she last used in L.A. where her passport (along with the script for the film she’s in) is stowed. And like a woman possessed Delphine drives back to the city. She parked in front of the building, deciding to climb up the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator. She’s a bit out of breath by the time she reached the 5th floor where the receptionist is waiting to escort her to a small conference room. Kristina, dressed casually in jeans and a brown V-neck Bonnaroo Festival shirt, is already there with a pile of papers and a laptop. They exchanged pleasantries before getting down to business.

“I’ve already filled the application with the files we have – including your passport details and the countries you visited recently,” Kristina says confidently. “Can I ask the purpose of your visit?” She follows up, the earlier confidence replaced by a hint of hesitation.

“It’s personal,” is all Delphine said, unsure what’s in store for her in Moscow. “I’d also need a return flight to L.A.,” she adds.

“Okay,” Kristina says with a tight-lipped smile. “We can’t expedite a tourist visa,” she explains as she prints the filled-out application form, “So we will apply a single-entry humanitarian visa for you tomorrow.” She went on to explain that the travel agency has a contact in the Canadian Embassy in Moscow and that they can get a letter of invitation for her to be submitted along with her application form. “We’ll just say,” Kristina says, “that you need to be in Moscow researching for a last-minute role. Does that sound okay?” The actress nods. “And of course all these last-minute paper works is going to be expensive…”

“Just…” Delphine says, biting her lip as she signs the form before speaking again, “Do whatever it takes to get me there as soon as possible.”

“Of course,” Kristina replies, her attention back to her laptop. “I can tell that this Moscow trip must be really important.”

“It is,” Delphine whispers as she handed her passport while thanking Kristina and asking her to update her about her visa. She left for her house, feeling a bit deflated but still hopeful that with a bit of luck, things will fall into place.

\-----

**October 4, 2013 – Kremlin Cup Semifinals **

Cosima will never admit it, but Sarah’s decision to get a wildcard in the Kremlin Cup turned out to be a step in the right direction. It sure didn’t feel like it in Beijing when Felix brought in the tournament doctor to their hotel room to hook her up to an IV treatment; or when Sarah mothered her all night to make sure she’s fit to travel the next morning. But thankfully, the fluids and the IV did what they’re designed to do and Cosima survived the 9-hour flight to Moscow four days ago - vomit-free and ready to eat solids as soon as she cleared immigration. She called it a night after a light dinner of sorrel soup and bread, and in the morning she woke up raring to get back to work.

Compared with the China Open – a premier mandatory event with 60 competitors that awards 1,000 ranking points to the champion, the Kremlin Cup is smaller - with only 28 players competing for 470 points. Cosima, ranked 18th in the world, is the 5th highest seed to enter Kremlin, resulting to a first round bye which automatically got her a place in the second round and gave her an extra day to recuperate.

Sarah has been keeping a close eye on her ever since their first Moscow practice session, taking over from the tournament-provided hitting partner to trade rallies and shots with Cosima. Their practice breaks are filled with talks of tactics and Sarah’s constant reminders for her to hydrate. After her first practice three days ago, Cosima knew she was already up for the challenge that her second round opponent, Magda Rybáriková, could bring on the court. They are both familiar with each other’s game, having faced each other countless of times before as juniors. “We’re lucky this is indoor hardcourt,” Sarah said when she saw the draw, very much aware that Magda would be a more formidable foe on the grass.

Even so, it took a while for Cosima to shake off the rust from the illness, falling to an early 0-2 hole in the first set. _You didn’t travel nine hours in economy and spent over a thousand dollars on plane tickets to lose this early,_ she silently berated herself as she prepared to receive Magda’s serve. Remembering the mission they’re in – _No More Early Round Losses _– she began to dazzle the crowd by chasing down every ball and returning it with angled and sharp interests. She erased the early deficit and reeled in six straight games to win the first set at 6-2.

Unfortunately, Magda had to retire before the second set started, citing a difficulty in breathing. Cosima was the first to notice that something was wrong, stopping play in the last game of the first set to ask her wheezing opponent if everything was okay. Magda pushed on out of respect, but once the set ended, the American had to help the Slovakian get to her bench. Cosima sat with Magda, even opening a bottle of water for her when she couldn’t, and she stayed by her side until the tournament doctor came on court. When she announced that she can no longer continue, Cosima didn’t give the customary winner’s on-court interview and instead chose to walk out of the stadium with Magda, making sure to carry her opponent’s bags and tennis gear – a move applauded by the crowd.

“Ďakujem, Cos,” Magda said when they reached the locker room, forgetting in her debilitated state that her colleague doesn’t speak Slovak.

“Just try to feel better,” Cosima answered. “And hey, at least you’re not puking your guts out.”

In spite of her discomfort, Magda still managed a labored laugh at what Cosima said. “Yes, I heard. Dumplings?” And Cosima nodded - surprised at how the news traveled so fast, before giving Magda her space when her coach and the doctor arrived.

Cosima’s quarterfinal opponent, Alisa Kleybanova, also had the potential to be a tricky match for more personal reasons. Kleybs is a friend - somebody she roomed with along with two other girls when they competed in the 16-and-under Orange Bowl as kids. A year younger than her, she’s one of those players who do not see the value of playing in the juniors. _“You going pro anyvay,” _her then-new Russian friend said to her in their room, “_I skip it iv I were you._” And because Kleybs went pro at the tender age of 14, she was already in the Top 20 by the time Cosima entered the pro tennis circuit.

_“That’s one way of skipping juniors, Cos,”_ she chided when they shook hands in the middle of the court after the Russian won a lopsided 6-1, 6-2 match back in 2011 – their first encounter since the Orange Bowl. Sadly, Kleybs has been dealing with a run of bad luck in the past few years, the most devastating of which is a Stage 2 Hodgkin’s lymphoma diagnosis. When Cosima heard about it, she visited her in Italy where she sought treatment, trying her best to make her friend laugh by joking about the old days.

She’s thankfully cancer-free now and on the comeback trail - and with ample hometown support and a game that resembles that of Lindsay Davenport, Cosima knew that she could lose if she’s distracted. She set aside all their shared history, stories, and jokes as she entered the court. _She’s just another opponent,_ she repeatedly told herself during the match, and when it was all said and done, Cosima emerged as the winner – a 6-1, 6-1 payback win in under an hour. 

“I needed to get cancer for you to finally win one over me,” Kleybs joked in between a friendly hug by the net after the match.

“I’m sure you’re gonna whoop my ass the next time,” Cosima answered and patted her friend on the back - a gesture that meant to convey _I’m happy you’ve kicked cancer’s ass_.

“Pray I’m not in your draw then, Cos,” and they walked to their respective chairs with a chuckle. 

Cosima’s easy victories in the past two days have made Sarah wary about complacency, which is why she pushed for a full-on practice instead of the light hitting and drills they usually do in the morning of a match. “It’s a cake walk so far but it’s going to get hard today and tomorrow,” she says now as they pack up their things after their hitting practice this morning. “Later in the semis, you’re up against a Russian version of you so I’d watch out.”

The “Russian Version of You” that Sarah is talking about is Anastasia Pavlyuchenkova – a girl three years younger than her who, like Cosima, was dubbed as a junior prodigy. The way Cosima sees it, her semifinal foe is the personification of the road she didn’t take - the best case scenario of what it would have looked like if she turned pro instead of going to college. Cosima was still hacking her way in the ITF Tour when Anastasia reached her highest singles ranking of 13th in the world. She just cracked the Top 100 when the younger junior prodigy made her grand slam quarterfinal debut in Paris. She even has more WTA titles under her belt – five against her four.

A win against her later is not just a victory that would bring Cosima a step closer to another championship title. A win later is a form of validation for the choice she made - that in the grand scheme of things, the circuitous path she chose turned out to be the right one regardless of what pundits have continued to say. It’s the kind of win that seems ordinary from the outside looking in, but it would mean volumes for those on the inside. The match has the capacity to build or destroy her newfound momentum and her confidence in her game that took her years to cultivate.

“Felix is waiting for you, by the way,” Sarah says, disturbing her thoughts about the implications of the semifinal match as she picks up Cosima’s racquets. “I’m gonna get these strung and gripped, then I’ll meet you at the lounge later so you can eat,” and with a nod, Sarah goes left towards the player services center while Cosima goes to the right to the locker rooms where she sees Felix waiting for her by the entrance – slumped in one of the lounge chairs and amused by whatever he’s reading on his tablet.

The tablets were Sarah’s idea, she remembers. After Montreal, she requested one for her so that she can chart matches faster; while Felix asked for one so he can keep tabs on their training, strengthening, and nutrition regimen. Cosima was happy to grant their work-related request, but the glint in Felix’s eyes and the grin on his lips tell her that the tablet is not currently being used for work. 

“I don’t think my water and electrolyte intake is that entertaining,” Cosima says, startling Felix who was oblivious about her presence because he was wearing earphones.

“You gave me a bloody fright!” Felix cries out, not even bothering to lock the tablet before placing it on the nearest table. “I’ve been waiting for you two to finish for close to an hour and now we lost our slot in the treatment room,” he adds.

“Sorry,” Cosima answers, “Sarah went full-on drill sergeant mode...”

“Wait here,” he instructs with irritation, “I’ll see if I can get us a new room,” and Cosima shrugs her shoulders as she grabs a bottle of water from her bag.

“And oh,” Felix says looking back at Cosima as he walks away, “you can use my tablet while you wait,” and he winks before disappearing around the corner.

Cosima casually grabs the device, intending to spend a few minutes mindlessly playing spider solitaire, when she saw it. “_Totentanz: Complicated Impasse,_” the cover of Entertainment Weekly proclaims with a photo of the cast. Cosima’s eyes quickly gravitate towards Delphine: sitting by what looks like the show’s war room conference table and wearing a white pantsuit – her double-breasted blazer casually giving a peek of the fair, smooth skin it covers. She drowns in the gaze of her hazel eyes, artistically hidden by perfectly-mussed blonde hair, and lips that – if she closes her eyes – she can still taste and feel.

“_A first look on the hottest spy show’s sophomore season and an exclusive interview with Delphine Cormier,_” the caption said. She quickly swiped her way to the cover’s accompanying article, skipping the pages about the show to read the promised exclusive interview.

“_It has been a very busy two months for Totentanz’s breakout star, Delphine Cormier. Fresh from the success of her off-Broadway stint, she tells us in this exclusive sit-down interview about Johanna’s struggles and her upcoming film projects while also giving us juicy updates about her personal life (hint: she’s newly single)…_”

Nothing about the article stuck to Cosima’s head when she read that line. And watching from a few meters away, Felix can only smirk at how brilliantly his little ruse worked.

\-----

With the unexpected waiting time, Delphine managed to build the components of her last-minute Moscow trip. Kristina assured her that her visa application had already been delivered to the Russian Consulate and that it should be ready as scheduled, so she booked a hotel 20 minutes away from where Cosima’s tournament is being held. Kristina’s additional assistance also enabled her to get the earliest October 3rd flight out of Montreal – a flight that involves a change of airport and a layover in New York - that arrives in Moscow a little before 7 a.m. the next day.

She was in pins and needles as she waited for word about her visa, and her nerves were made worse by watching Cosima’s first Moscow match. Delphine did the math and apart from the possible wrinkles in her application, she knew that all the haste would be for naught if Cosima doesn’t reach at least the semifinals of the Kremlin Cup. Her next tournament would be in Bulgaria, and by that time, she would need to be in L.A. for the film. She could only breathe a sigh of relief when the American won her first match via a retirement.

Kristina finally called on the afternoon of the 2nd to tell her that her visa and passport are ready. She picked them up immediately, profusely thanking the travel agent for going above and beyond for her. It came at a price of course, but Delphine knew in her heart that she had to do it. She had already transferred to JFK from LaGuardia, gearing up for her transatlantic flight to Moscow, when she received news that Cosima won her quarterfinal match. She boarded the plane with a smile and nervous but hopeful that all’s not yet lost, she was able to sleep for most of the trip.

Delphine opens her phone when they landed, happy that she has cellular service. She can tell from her view by the airplane window that it’s cold outside so she got a thick, dependable coat from her carry-on. She’s surprised that immigration isn’t as nightmarish as she imagined – the queue is bearable because apparently, there are fewer tourists around this time. When her turn came, the immigration officer just took one of her two immigration cards that she filled up in the plane and quickly inspected her passport before putting a stamp on it. With no check-in baggage, Delphine was out of the Sheremetyevo International Airport just over an hour after the plane touched Russian soil.

She’s thankful that the hotel she got has an affordable airport pick-up service as she sees a heavyset man with placard bearing her name at the arrival’s section. The man gave her a tight smile and a barely audible _Good morning_ before telling her slowly to wait for him as he gets the vehicle. She gets into the car and she can feel her eyes closing in fatigue. The driver, apart from asking how her trip was and if this is her first time in Moscow, left her alone to rest – only waking her up when they reached the hotel.

It’s too early to check in, but the woman in the front desk may have recognized Delphine and told her that she can have her breakfast first while they prepare her room. After using the ATM in the lobby to get some rubles, Delphine proceeds to the restaurant where she ordered a hot latte and a salad. She can’t believe that she’s in Moscow – the excitement and the nerves of being here and the reason why she’s here settling nicely in the pit of her stomach. She washes it down with a gulp of coffee before asking a waiter where she can smoke. She’s directed to the alfresco dining area where she proceeds to light up a cigarette – her first in over half a day. She takes one delectable drag after another which made her lightheaded but also calmed her down a bit - a small price to pay for temporary peace of mind. Her room is ready by the time she’s had her nicotine fix and Delphine made sure to pick a room with a balcony so she can smoke without the hassle of dressing up to go down to a smoking area. She carries her bag herself, refusing the assist from a bellhop as she makes her way to her room in the 6th floor. 

It was an ordinary room, more similar to the hotel room she had in Prague than the extravagant one she had in L.A. just a week ago. Even so, she quickly washed up and changed to something more comfortable: an old, flannel pajama pants and a thin white shirt, consuming one more cigarette before closing the curtains and climbing onto bed. With her phone in hand, Delphine sets four alarms: 2 p.m., 2:15 p.m., 2:30 p.m., and 3 p.m. While she waited for her food in the restaurant, she found out that like before, Cosima has the earlier semifinal match scheduled at 4 p.m., and while she’s here in Moscow to win her over, she stills wants her to win. The last thing Delphine wants is for her to come into a match distracted, so she decided that she would send word about her current whereabouts during the match when she knew that the brunette’s phone would be left in the locker room. For now, she allows exhaustion to claim her as she reads one of Cosima’s emails before falling to sleep.

\-----

“She broke up with him,” Cosima says in between bites of her grilled chicken sandwich while Felix and Sarah take bites off their meals: cold lamb sandwich for her and a plate of pirozhki for him.

“What is she on about?” Sarah asks Felix who earnestly took out his tablet to show her the article that Cosima read all throughout their treatment session. “Oh,” she says with a chuckle as she reads, “blondie looks very nice here.”

“She broke up with him,” Cosima says again before taking a bite out of her apple, earning curious looks from her coach and her trainer who stopped partaking on their early lunch.

“I think you broke her,” Felix quips to Sarah as he points his fork to Cosima, “that’s about the only intelligible sentence she has said since I met up with her after your practice.”

“I told you she did back in Tokyo, didn’t I?” Sarah replies as she helps herself with a bag of chips. Cosima finally breaks eye contact with her pasta to look at her coach. “What? You had to read it in some rag before you take my word for it?”

“I don’t think that’s it, love,” Felix chimes in. “It’s the fact that Blondie Voldie publicly announced it – like she’s banking on little Miss Tennis Player to pick up a copy and actually read it. Good plan though, if you ask me,” he says pointing to a still-surprised Cosima.

“Guess the ball’s on your court now,” Sarah mutters in agreement, “what’s the plan?”

Cosima doesn’t answer. Instead, she takes out her phone to type a message. And unlike before when she just writes Delphine long, heartfelt letters only to leave it lingering in the drafts folder, she actually sends this message out. Suddenly, the pressure of the semifinals became nothing compared to the anticipation for the blonde’s reply.

“Come on, we have to prep for the semis,” Sarah says as she sees from the TV in the cafeteria that the grounds crew is already out on court prepping for the match.

\-----

Waking up on the third alarm, Delphine tosses the phone from the bedside table to the empty spot on the bed. She rubs her eyes and sits on the bed before turning on the TV, looking for the channel that is broadcasting the Kremlin Cup. She found it after a few minutes of channel surfing and they were showing highlights of all four quarterfinals matches from yesterday. Luckily, she didn’t miss out on Cosima’s match as she watches her essentially run the girl on the other side of the court to the ground.

Even two months ago when she knew absolutely nothing about tennis, she knew Cosima was superb. And while the match was a Cosima Niehaus clinic, she can tell from where she’s sitting that the American and her opponent are friends, with the on-court mic picking up on their exchange at the net after the match - something that has to do with cancer and ass-whooping. Her observation was confirmed by a pair of amused commentators.

“_Lovely exchange between these two women who first met as kids in Florida_,” the female British commentator said.

“_It’s not every day that you see a losing player be so cheerful post-match, Annabelle_,” the male commentator with a pronounced South African accent replied.

“_I think she’s just happy to be back after battling cancer,” _Annabelle said, “_and Cosima is definitely one of the more popular girls in the locker room – you can’t find a single player out there who has a bad word to say about her._”

“_And while tennis is gladiatorial in so many aspects,_” the male presenter added, “_she seems to have a genial air about her - and I think that’s refreshing._”

“_It certainly is, Robbie,_” and the coverage cuts to the highlights of another quarterfinal match featuring another Russian tennis player. She smiles at the sentiment, agreeing to it even if she’s only heard snippets about Cosima’s tennis life. Delphine thinks that apart from her genuine warmth and kindness, it’s the way the American talks about her opponents with her – how she always calls them by their first name and how she’s ready to share a few positive tidbits about them even at her expense - that made her believe the commentators’ words.

Checking the bedside clock and realizing she only has 15 minutes to bathe if she wants to watch Cosima’s match from first ball to last, she leaves the TV on as she grabs her hygiene kit from her carry-on. Minutes later, Delphine closes her eyes in relief, the hot water soothing her aching neck and at the same time getting rid of the grime and smell that can only come from an extensive air trip. She wipes the steam off the mirror when she emerged from the shower, wrapping her hair in the towel before brushing her teeth.

By the time Delphine got out of the bathroom in a robe, Cosima’s already warming up with her opponent on the court, trading short passes as she stands near the net. The girl she’s up against in this semifinals probably has one of the most difficult names to pronounce and spell, dissuading Delphine from finding out more about her online. Still, she gets her phone from underneath the blankets, surprised and nervous about a notification that has been missing for quite some time now, but still managed to make her heart skip a beat months since it first popped into her life.

_Delphine,_

_I need to see you. I need to talk to you. Where can we meet? When? Just tell me and I’ll be there._

_Please,_

_Cosima_

An audible gasp left Delphine’s lips seconds into reading Cosima’s message – the first in almost a month. Her attention shifts from the smaller screen on her palm to the bigger screen on the room’s wall as she watches Cosima practicing her serve. 

“Maintenant ou jamais,” Delphine quietly utters as she taps the reply button, reminding herself that now is not the time to be nervous.

\-----

“How did that feel?” Sarah beams as she stands by Cosima who is cooling down on a stationary bike minutes after the match. “I told you that half the battle is won on the practice courts,” she adds.

“It felt good,” Cosima answers but her words seem hollow. It did feel good, Cosima thinks. Under normal circumstances, a 6-2 6-1 win over a younger but more experienced opponent - someone packaged as who she could have been had she turned pro sooner than later – would feel awesome. But as she slowly wounds her body down from the physical stress of playing a whole tennis match, a new set of nerves totally unrelated to tennis kicks in.

“Just open your bloody phone,” Sarah says as she hands her a fresh towel and the dreadlocked American’s phone. “After that article, I don’t think you should be nervous about her not getting back to you,” and Cosima takes the towel but gave her phone a longing, if a bit worried, look.

“You read it?” Cosima asks, darting her gaze from the phone to the floor, the nerves making her thrifty about her words.

“I did,” her coach answers, “while you were up 4-1 in the second. I knew you had it in the bag so I said what the hell. The charting can wait…”

“Sorry to interrupt,” a woman wearing a tour shirt enters the fitness room, “but you have 20 minutes before your press conference.”

“Thanks,” Cosima says as she gets down from the bike to quickly hit the showers.

Sarah gets her attention by snapping her fingers at her, pointing to the pocket of her cardigan where she placed the phone. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah? Bright and early around 8. I got Court 3 for us for an hour or two, far from the madding crowd.”

“Court 3. 8. Far from the madding crowd. Got it,” she says. “Hey Sar,” and Sarah looks back at her from where she’s standing by the door. “Thank you…for everything.” And a nod and thrifty smile later, Cosima is all alone in the room.

The haste to get the presser over and done with had made her momentarily forget that the phone was even in her pocket, only remembering it when a local reporter asked her for the umpteenth time what she thinks of Moscow so far. “It’s been good,” she answered as she gets her phone, “surprisingly charming and very warm – mainly because of the people and the fans,” she adds as she turns the device on, satisfied that she manages to give a different answer every time that question came up.

The phone was already on the table near the microphone as a follow-up question about what she’s been up to since arriving in Moscow was asked by another local reporter. Cosima was halfway through delivering her answer about an impromptu tennis practice with student-athletes at the Moscow State University when she saw her phone light up. She unlocks it and one notification stood out from the collective, turning the rest of the messages into nothing but blurry background images.

_DoubleTree Moscow – Marina, Room 611. After your match…or your tournament? _ _I will wait._

\-----

Delphine ordered room service after the first set, confident that Cosima has the match under control after making her opponent run around in confusing circles. It was a light dinner – a sea bass with vegetable dish and a ginger ale. She held off on the alcohol, giving herself until midnight before ordering a glass or two of red wine. The dinner was already gone by the time Cosima served for the match. She was brushing her teeth while she watched her on-court interview. The few minutes of match highlights was being shown and scrutinized in Russian when she decided to put on a beige shirt and a pair of black joggers – a decent-looking attire but casual enough that she wouldn’t mind falling asleep in them.

And when the TV began showing the next semifinal match, Delphine’s waiting had begun.

She watched the other match with some interest, knowing that whoever wins here is going to face Cosima tomorrow evening. She felt as if she shot herself in the foot by replying in haste, not thinking as she keyed in the words she had long to say to Cosima. Maybe she should have been more specific – _Meet me after your match today_ instead of _after your match or your tournament_, she thought as she made herself a cup of instant coffee. The second set of the second semifinal turned out to be more competitive than Cosima’s match, the level of noise from the home crowd as the Russian player gives them a lot to cheer for increases with every prolonged rally and won point.

There have been no new messages in the hour after the first semifinal and she puts the TV on mute as she helps herself with the free bottle of water. She considers what she should do next: go out to the balcony to smoke a cigarette or scream out her frustrations on one of her pillows.

Until a knock on the door made up her mind for her.

Even when she’s been expecting it, Delphine wanted to keep her hopes low – perhaps as a last act of self-preservation before giving in to her emotions completely. She told herself as she walks to open the door that it’s probably room service, sent here to clear her used plates and glasses…Or maybe it’s somebody from the restaurant asking if she’d want that glass of wine now that she said she’d be ordering sometime in the night.

“Hi,” Cosima says - her glasses a little askew as if she climbed the six flights of stairs with all her tennis gear just to get to her room. “I’m not imagining things…You’re really here….”

“No you’re not,” and maybe it was the anticipation for this meeting, but Delphine couldn’t help but run the back of her fingers on the side of Cosima’s face, as if she too is trying to convince herself that this is not just her imagination.

The slight touch was all it took for Cosima to drop her bags and rush forward to cup Delphine’s face, looking at her intently, as if waiting for her to close the gap. Delphine’s reply came in a move that captured Cosima’s lips in a kiss that started out as earnest, but quickly ended up as confident and insistent. The brunette’s bags were hastily dragged into the room, lips never losing contact from each other, and when the door slammed shut and Cosima’s back hits the wall, Delphine knew that there would be minimal talking happening tonight.

“I missed you,” Cosima whispers in her ear as she peppers her cheek with soft, sweet kisses.

“I missed you too,” Delphine replies, gasping when the brunette takes a playful nibble of her ear while trying to move forward to get on the bed. She allows Cosima to lead, faintly remembering that being with another woman is completely new territory for her. She wonders briefly if she should voice it out, but by the time she’s sitting on the bed, Cosima has already unzipped her cardigan, revealing a floral-printed black bra and giving her a first unobstructed view of the brunette’s toned abs and arm muscles. She couldn’t think straight as she allows her instincts to take over, removing her own shirt that earned a look of wonderment from the American. She was reaching out to remove her bra when Cosima stopped her.

“Can I?” She asks reverently. And Delphine nods, not missing the sweetness that came with the question and request. With her top undone, she scoots, removing the joggers in the short journey from the edge to the center of the bed. Cosima joins her, taking off her own pants before climbing onto the bed. She hovers over Delphine, a smile that is mixture of excitement and nerves etched on her face as she leans down to kiss her again. Breathless from the kiss, she envelops Cosima in her arms as her fingers try to unhook her bra. A kiss on the cheek and playful nibble of her ear came before a soft laugh when her unpracticed hands couldn’t get them undone.

“Here,” Cosima encouragingly says, kneeling on the space between Delphine’s legs as she arches to remove the piece of fabric before dropping it on the floor to join her discarded pants. Delphine sought to make up for her inexperience with enthusiasm, lunging forward to palm an ample bosom while her lips capture an erect nipple. “Oh my God,” she hears Cosima breathe out as she clutches the back of her head conveying her desire for more. Delphine allows herself to be directed before Cosima moved to resume their earlier position, hoping to give before receiving.

She sucks at Delphine’s pulse point as she runs a hand over her chest and in between the valley of her breasts before gently tugging at a hardened nipple. Delphine can only gasp as her curiosity, anticipation, and longing for the dreadlocked American melded together after one simple touch. The sounds she’s making only made Cosima bolder and more assured as the lips kissing her neck has traveled down to caress the sides of her breasts before taking a pert nipple in between her mouth. By the time Delphine has let out a string of unintelligible French, Cosima has come back to kiss her again as one of her hands inches closer to the only part of Delphine’s body that has not yet been divested of clothing.

Delphine did not stop kissing Cosima, she wants more of this, more of her – the first kiss more than a month ago only gave her a small dose that left her aching for days and yearning for weeks. And when she opens her eyes, she is welcomed by the sight of Cosima, looking at her as if asking for permission to continue. Her answer came by removing the bespectacled tennis player’s glasses to put it on the bedside table. She can only gasp when Cosima’s fingers first dipped into the pool of moisture in between her legs.

“You’re so wet,” Cosima whispers, as if saying it out loud would scare off the desire.

“I’ve been wet for you since your message,” she replies truthfully as her hands reach out to remove her own underwear. And at her words, Cosima leans down for another kiss as her fingers work to turn Delphine into a mumbling mess. She can feel Cosima angling to get a better position to tip her right over the edge, but she has longed for Cosima – for her words, for her stories, and for her nearness for weeks - and amidst the scorching heat of the American’s ministrations, she managed to say what she was supposed to say – what she wanted to say – that night at the New York studio.

“Stay here, just stay near me,” she utters and Cosima nods as she re-positions to lie on her side while continuing to slide her fingers on her pulsating core. She kisses her on the lips and Delphine lets her tongue run on the brunette’s lips – which tasted of sugar, perhaps a protein shake with bananas and milk. But all thoughts of phantom tastes were forgotten when a pair of strong, skilled fingers plunged into her searing heat, making Delphine jerk and open her eyes at the intensity of it all. She couldn’t believe that something as simple as lips, tongue, and fingers can make her feel so much.

“I really missed you,” Cosima says, taking a pause from lavishing a nipple with attention as she observes Delphine’s reaction to her touch.

“I really missed you too…” and at the sight of the brunette’s enthusiastic and aroused face, Delphine’s hand travels down her core to caress her bud, an image that she had dreamed of at least twice in the past weeks of silence. She touches herself as her eyes switch their gaze from the woman beside her and from what her fingers are doing in between her legs.

“I’m coming, Cosima,” she says – the vision not aiding in prolonging the pleasure, and Cosima thrusts harder, making her tremble and quiver as she screams her release.

Delphine needed a minute or two - and a big, fat cigarette or two - to recover from the ecstasy. She uses the few minutes of rest to languidly kiss Cosima, who seems to be pleased with her handiwork. When their lips parted, she moves to return the favor, but paused before pulling down Cosima’s panties.

“Are athletes allowed to have sex the night before an important match?” She playfully asks, as she traces invisible patterns on the fabric of Cosima’s moist underwear which makes the brunette gasp in anticipation.

“I guess,” Cosima says as she removes her panties herself, “we just have to do a little experiment to disprove the sex before a competition myth...” and at those cheeky, breathy words, all of Delphine’s hesitation about not being able to make Cosima writhe in pleasure dissipates as she begins to replicate what Cosima has done to her minutes ago. Her touch is met by moans and whispers of her name - all adding fire to her already growing addiction to Cosima.

\-----

**October 5, 2013: Morning of the Finals**

The faint blue light of the neglected television may have roused Cosima from sleep, but it was the woman she’s spooning and the heat emanating from their linked bodies that kept her in bed. Last night was like a vivid dream coming to life, which made her hold on to Delphine tighter this morning as she remembers all the kisses and reactions they shared on this bed. It finally happened and more, she thinks to herself, and she can only imagine the goofy smile on her face now – thankful that the enchanting blonde cannot see it since she is still asleep and is facing the other side of the room.

Her vision clears and she is overwhelmed by the first sight of the intricate freckles on Delphine’s back. She couldn’t help herself from tracing them with her fingers, coasting from one beauty mark to another, from the one near her shoulder to the three near her spine. It wasn’t long until her lips replaced her fingers, giving each mark a peck. When her tongue joined in on the exploration, Delphine began to stir.

“Good morning,” Delphine says, looking over her shoulder before reaching out to link her fingers with Cosima's.

“Great morning,” Cosima replies in between little kisses on her back. “I…” she began to start saying the feeling she has known she has for Delphine, not seeing the point of holding back any longer, only to be distracted by a ringing phone.

“Don’t mind it,” she says as the blonde turns to face her – her hazel doe eyes even more radiant and captivating in the warmth of the morning after. “What does this mean?” She couldn’t help but ask Delphine, wanting to make sure they’re on the same page before she says the words she can't take back once uttered.

“This,” and Delphine gives her a peck on the cheek, “means,” and she moves closer to wrap her in her arms, “that we’re together. Baggages, complications, warts and all...”

“I like the sound of that,” and as Cosima tries to deepen the kiss, her phone begins pestering them again.

“You should get that,” Delphine says teasingly, playfully pinching her on the hip as she grabs the device.

“Oi!” Cosima didn’t need to check who’s calling for her to figure out that it’s a worried and pissed Sarah on the other end of the line. “I’ve been banging at your room for an hour! And I don’t know where the hell you are but you better not be late for practice this morning!”

“Court 3. 8. Far from the madding crowd. Oh,” she says, cutting the continuation of Sarah’s morning lecture off, “I’m bringing someone with me. Is that cool?”

“Someone?” Sarah asks, her voice a pitch higher in both disbelief and curiosity. “I’m not even going to ask…I’m going to regret this, but sure - surprise me, Cos.”

“Practice?” Delphine says when the call is over, her head propped by a palm as her elbow rests on a pillow. “I wonder how you’re going to pay for this transgression…”

Cosima can only smile. “Whatever the price is,” she says as she captures Delphine’s lips with hers, “it’s well worth it.” The words she meant to say can wait. For now, she’ll settle for trying to win a title, for trying to make up for lost time, for a quick shower with the woman she's in love with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Tennis things  
I'm changing things up a bit by putting in links to some choice match highlights for the actual tennis players mentioned here. Give it a watch if you have two or three minutes of time to spare just in case you're curious. :)
> 
> Magda Rybáriková - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zVk5czFzwFo  
Alisa Kleybanova - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ojeS9RY-7T0  
Anastasia Pavlyuchenkova - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_tZVgwKE6q0
> 
> *Non-tennis things  
*The line "Maintenant ou jamais" is of course a nod to EBro's amazing song which you can listen to here - https://youtu.be/dBZoSP7QPr0
> 
> And again, my biggest thanks to everyone giving this a chance. It means a lot. :)


	15. Partings and Reunions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to my friend Corsan for the help with this chapter. :)

_“Hello everyone and welcome to another episode of the WTA Champion’s Podcast – the official WTA podcast where we speak with the winners of your favorite WTA tournaments. In this episode, we are talking with Cosima Niehaus – the 2013 Tournament of Champions winner in Sofia and your 2013 Kremlin Cup Champion. This interview was held shortly after Sofia before the off-season started. In 2013, Cosima made her debut in a grand slam semifinal, reaching the last four of the U.S. Open. She has also hauled an impressive six WTA titles in only five months – the first since Steffi Graf to win her first six titles in one season. So Cosima, a lot of people want to know what changed for you this year. A lot have attributed the change to having your own physio, while some are saying that it’s a change in mindset. Care to share us your two cents in this matter?”_

_“Hi. What a way to start this interview, I must say. Uhm, I don’t really know to be honest. Having Felix in the team is definitely a plus. The mindset is still the same: compete until you die on court, be professional, try to win but always try to learn from a loss. I think if there’s something that’s changed this year it has something to do with emotions. After the French, I realized that there’s something missing in my life – something that can’t be filled by tennis alone. So I tried to make my life more than just the sport I play. It’s easier said than done but over the months that followed, that half-asleep realization in a hotel room began to manifest. I think for the first time since I played, I can say that there are more important things in my life than tennis. And that makes me feel lighter whenever I step on a court.”_

\-----

**October 5, 2013 – Kremlin Cup, Practice before the Championship**

“She’s bringing someone?” Felix asks Sarah, equally intrigued and surprised, as he sets down the quick breakfast for Cosima to eat before the practice.

“That’s what she said,” Sarah says from across the court as she practices her serve. “I’m actually curious who she got…and where she spent the night…Christ, I still got it,” she adds when her T-serve convincingly knocked off the tennis can at the center of the court.

“Great, let’s schedule a comeback,” Felix humors her with an impish smile as he puts the target back up on the court. “I’ll give you the old family discount,” he adds as Sarah hits the can next to the one she just toppled, “the hope is you win a couple of titles so we can have some pocket money for your fifth shoulder operation.”

“Sod off,” Sarah says with a chuckle. She was bouncing the ball, aiming to knock off the tennis can at the far left corner when she stopped to put a hand on her waist. “That wily minx…” she says as she lifts her sunglasses to peer towards the stands.

“What?” Felix says as he faces to where she’s looking. “It’s Delphine!” He says, pointing out the obvious. “Gosh she looks good!”

“How the fuck did you manage that?” Sarah screams to Cosima as she hurriedly runs to the court hand in hand with Delphine, who can only give a shy smile as an answer to Sarah’s question.

“They’re holding hands and everything,” Felix says, complete with finger pointing and a scandalized grin on his face as the duo noisily makes their way down from the metal bleachers.

“I’m not late! I’m not late!” Cosima exclaims, choosing to ignore Sarah and Felix’s comments. “I’m on the dot,” she adds when she finally gets on the court, “just let me stretch.”

“Yeah, and eat a little while you’re on it,” Felix instructs. “Hello, blondie!” He says, quickly disregarding Cosima to focus his attention to the actress. “When did you get here?”

“Just yesterday morning,” Delphine answers Felix, but her eyes are focused on Cosima while she quickly eats her oatmeal. “I saw your match yesterday, you guys were great.”

“Well, somebody was inspired by a certain magazine article about a…what is the term…” Felix says, tapping a finger on his temple as he faux-thinks, “_a complicated impasse_, yes…not so complicated now, it seems…”

“It’s all she talked about over lunch,” Sarah adds and Delphine blushes, “well, a portion of it, at least,” and Cosima makes a grumbling sound - the best threat she could muster with a mouth full of food. “Are you choking over there, Cos?” Sarah quips. “There’s no room for that kind of choking in a tennis court…”

“Or any kind of choking for that matter,” Felix adds. “Come on,” his attention once again on Delphine, “let’s leave these girls here and let’s sit over there. You can tell me all about your trip to Moscow.”

And before Delphine follows Felix to sit on a shady part of the bleachers, she gives Cosima a kiss. “I can’t stop thinking about last night,” she whispers in her ear – the words going in contrast with the chaste peck on the cheek she just gave her. At those sultry words, Cosima tries not to melt into a puddle in front of her coach and physio.

“Somebody got lucky,” Sarah teases when Felix and Delphine became far from earshot.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she attempts to lie, but her eyes and her smile can’t help but give her away.

“Whatever keeps you winning, prodigy,” Sarah answers. “This will keep you winning, yeah? You’re not too tired or…sleepy or…stretched out…”

“Okay, I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Cosima says with a chuckle. “But for what it’s worth, last night…was…inspirational,” and she couldn’t help but look at Delphine who seems to be showing something on her phone to Felix.

Sarah guffaws like a teenage boy at Cosima’s words. “Inspirational? Well that’s something…Must be serious if you’re sleeping with her after a win.”

“It is,” Cosima says and Sarah can tell that she means it.

“Come on,” and Sarah gets up from her chair but not before giving a pat on Cosima’s knee, “we have someone to impress.” Cosima can only exchange glances with Delphine as she stretches and prepares to practice, hoping that the blonde will never stop looking at her in such a loving way.

\-----

_“Yeah, I think you said that during the U.S. Open presser after your quarterfinal win. That seems like ages ago, when really it’s just been a little over a month. So now that the 2013 tennis season is in the books, what is your overwhelming feeling and emotion?”_

_“I think I’ve been running on fumes and adrenaline this past week - almost on auto-pilot mode if you ask me. I’m just very happy and excited that I get to take a break for a couple of weeks to chill, sit down, and reflect. There is an overwhelming feeling right now of wanting to look back at this year because this is a year that I never want to forget - that I never want to end, if I’m being honest. Things are on the up and up, and I don’t want to ever forget this feeling which I know will help tide over whatever challenges that next year brings…”_

\-----

**October 8, 2013 – Last Day in Moscow**

“It’s just two weeks, ma chérie,” Delphine says, holding a sobbing Cosima closer to her chest, trying her best to give comfort even if she’s fighting back tears of her own. “Two weeks and we will be together again…”

“I know, I know,” Cosima answers as she holds on to the blonde tighter, trying to file away the memory of their skin-to-skin closeness and hoping that two weeks would go by in just a blink of an eye. “I wish I can get out of this tournament…”

“Shhh, don’t say that,” and Delphine plays with the dreads that are now suddenly within her reach. “Come on, it’s just 1 a.m., we still have time. You don’t need to be in the airport for another five hours.” She tries her best to show Cosima a smile when she looked up at her, but the tears she’s been holding back had already trickled down without her consent.

“There’s something I need to tell you…and it can’t wait two more weeks,” Cosima whispers as she wipes Delphine’s tears with her hand, “I love you.” She didn’t expect her voice to break and although she’s sure about how she feels, she can’t help but think whether five hours before catching a plane to Bulgaria is the best time for her to tell those words to Delphine for the first time. “I know it’s only been a few days…” She adds, hoping to give reason to an emotion that’s usually bereft of it, “but I’ve known for a while…I’ve known since…”

“Montreal?” Delphine asks, running her hand on the brunette’s face.

“Yes,” she quietly answers. “After that dinner at your house, I knew you know…” and Cosima goes in for a kiss filled with intensity and sincerity that couldn’t be dampened by their joint tears.

“I’ve known for a while too,” Delphine confides, “that I love you too,” a sentiment that made Cosima smile. “I knew the day you watched my play – even before I saw you in the audience. I didn’t know what it was until you kissed me. Maybe I knew before that…I just…” and Delphine, breaks eye contact but begins stroking the side of Cosima’s waist with her fingers, “I’ve never felt this way about anybody before. I’ve never…” she sniffs, “fallen this fast, this hard. It’s a bit scary.” She bites her lip at her confession. Falling in love and choosing to be vulnerable already poses its share of challenges, how much more falling in love and starting a relationship knowing that there are other factors at play: their work, their schedules, the scrutiny when all this goes public.

“I’m not scared,” Cosima says before kissing Delphine on the forehead. “I can’t be, knowing that there’s an us in the picture whatever happens.”

“Us,” Delphine repeats as she holds Cosima’s hand and watches the push and pull of their interlinked fingers. How could she be scared if Cosima is in the picture? “I have a question,” she asks, which made Cosima stop nuzzling her neck, “now that there’s an us, do I get to have unlimited questions?”

Cosima laughs. “I love you, and you can have all the questions you want. And the rest…we can figure out when we have to, together.”

As their kiss deepens and their intentions become clearer with every touch, Delphine tries to wish away the thought that this is just the first of many separations they would have to endure. “I love you too,” she chose to say instead of holding on to her thoughts as she reciprocates every touch and kiss, intending to cram as many memories and sensations in the last five hours before their temporary separation.

\-----

_“Chill and reflect…I like the sound of that. Most tennis players will be off to somewhere warm and sandy for the break. Do you have any holiday plans? How would you spend your off season?”_

_“Nothing warm and sandy for me. The Maldives has a unisex tennis locker room vibe if you go there during the off season – there’s a tennis player in every hotel, in every restaurant, in every part of the beach. I don’t know how I’d exactly spend the off season. I do know that I would make up for lost time, catch up on people that I miss. The location is just secondary to that…”_

_\-----_

**October 22, 2013 – Los Angeles**

“I really missed you,” Cosima says in between urgent and needy kisses as she drops her bags inside Delphine’s L.A. apartment. It took 21 hours to get from Bulgaria to Los Angeles, which included a tense 6-hour layover in Paris where she thought the airline lost her luggage. She quickly picked them up when it finally emerged on the baggage carousel before finding a spot where she can spend a few hours video-chatting with her girlfriend until she had to go to sleep. When the call ended, she spent a few listless hours trying to concentrate on a book she bought in the Sofia International Airport about a young girl who can taste people’s emotions in the food she eats.

“I can’t believe you’re here with me now, mon amour,” Delphine answers, enveloping the travel-weary American in her arms. In between the many emails and wish-you-were-here video calls in the past two weeks, they weren’t able to form many concrete plans apart from immediately reuniting once the season is over. Cosima took initiative, choosing to fly to L.A. before heading to her home in San Francisco. “I have that bottle of wine you asked for,” Delphine adds, “you want one now or you want a shower first?”

“Oooh,” Cosima coos, “which among the two would get you naked faster?” And she proceeds to take off her coat.

“Well,” and Delphine proceeds to grab the bottle of wine and a couple of glasses in the adjacent kitchen, “I can give you the best of both worlds. A bath and a glass?” Cosima was out of the living room and into the bathroom before Delphine can even take off a garment of clothing or pour an ounce of wine in to the glasses. By the time she gets into the bathroom in only her robe and with the promised wine, Cosima was already naked in the tub - her hair up in an improvised bun and experimenting with the various bath bombs and salts available. Delphine hands the glasses of wine to her as she takes off her robe while trying to not seem too excited to jump in and join Cosima.

“Will we fit?” Delphine asks with furrowed brows, forgetting about the small tub when she offered her _‘the best of both worlds’_.

Cosima scoots and leans on the end of the tub as she spreads her legs. “I can always make room for you,” she says, lending a hand to Delphine as she hops in and sits on the space that was made for her. It wasn’t long before the shorter girl is nuzzling the blonde’s neck and peppering naked shoulders with lingering kisses. Delphine can’t help but lean in to the touch as she intertwines their limbs in an effort to eliminate whatever space there is between her and Cosima.

“I feel so relaxed,” Delphine can’t help but exclaim as she fully leans back against Cosima’s bare chest. “I never knew how much I missed you until you arrived…”

“Ditto,” Cosima says, taking a sip of her wine before playfully nibbling Delphine’s ear, removing a simple sterling earring secured by an English lock with her mouth. She repeats the same motion on the other lobule which made the taller woman gasp. “I have other relaxing things in mind…” She adds as her palms travel downward.

“We have time for that,” Delphine whispers, getting a hold of Cosima’s arms and tightening her embrace around her instead. “How are Sarah and Felix?”

“They’re fine, I think…” and Cosima hands Delphine’s glass of wine to her. “Sarah went straight to Iceland after Bulgaria to meet up with Cal – he’s Kira’s dad. It’s complicated but that’s what they have,” she says with a shrug. “And Felix flew to London to meet up with some chums, I guess. We’re going to meet up around Thanksgiving for the pre-season. How is the film going?” She asked.

“It’s fine, moving along as scheduled,” Delphine says tracing invisible patterns on the brunette’s soapy arms. “Are we on for after? The road trip?”

“Hell yes,” Cosima says directly on her ear as her hands coast all over the blonde’s torso before picking up on its aborted journey. This time though, she doesn’t stop her and as Cosima’s hands land on its intended spot, Delphine can’t help but quiver in anticipation. Pretty soon, their collective moans bounce off the tiles and the glass of red that Delphine is holding has spilled into the water as she gives in to the waves of sensations that only Cosima can stoke in her.

\-----

_“You’re earning the big bucks now and most tennis players once they find success on court would either move their residence to Monte Carlo or the Bahamas. Some for tax reasons, some for easier travels to tournaments. Do you have such plans?” _

_“I wouldn’t say I’m earning the ‘big bucks’, I mean I do well enough to live comfortably, to travel, and to compensate everybody who works hard to ensure that I’m in great shape – more this year than last year. But to me, San Francisco and Berkeley will always be home. If ever I do take up a new residence outside those places, I don’t think it would be for tax or travel reasons. It’ll be done in the name of something more personal.”_

_\-----_

**November 12, 2013 – Berkeley**

“Honey, I’m home!” Gene says as soon as he puts down his briefcase and closes the front door. “Are you cooking?” He adds, the scent of something roasting in his house is unfamiliar which made him suddenly unsure of what to do with the take-out food his wife asked him to buy before coming home.

“Hi,” Sally answers by peeking from the kitchen as she wipes her hands with a kitchen towel. “Are those the salads and the pasta? Bring them here so I can put them on a bowl. Quickly!” And she disappears from Gene’s view.

“What’s with all the cooking?” He asks as he takes off his cardigan to finally join his wife. Although they can both whip up a dish if they wish, their kitchen has been rarely used for anything more complex than making coffee in the mornings or re-heating leftovers in lazy nights. They usually just eat out or have something delivered since it’s just the two of them and since they spend most of their free time on their boat.

“Your daughter’s arriving in an hour,” Sally gleefully shares as she stirs the pot of soup. “And get this, she’s not alone,” she adds with a wink.

“Bringing someone, hmm…” Gene says. He has to admit that that is interesting. The last time Cosima brought someone to their home was in high school. He smiles at the memory: “_We’re conjugating Latin verbs,_” his teenage daughter reasoned while introducing a girl named Michelle from school one afternoon when he arrived early from the university. That was the first and last time he saw Michelle and what followed over the years were several casual introductions to a slew of girlfriends - none of whom ever seem to make it to Berkeley. And while they trust their daughter well enough to let her play the field, he has silently wished for her to meet someone special, a wish he knows that his wife also shares.

“Who?” He couldn’t help but ask as he takes a pinch of bread to taste the sauce for the roasting chicken.

“Does it matter?” Sally says. “She seems happy when she called before driving from L.A. to here. They’re spending the night, so go check on the cottage. I’ve put out new bed sheets and everything.”

And with a kiss, Gene leaves the kitchen and crosses the front yard to the cottage in front of the main house.

He had no idea what time their daughter called her mother, but it seems that Sally Niehaus has spent the better part of the afternoon preparing for Cosima’s arrival. The cottage is already spotless: the white sheets protecting Cosima’s bed from dust have already been removed, the bathroom has complete toiletries, and the fridge is already stocked with more than enough food to last for a week. As he puts on the new bed sheets, he couldn’t help but let his eyes take in the photos on the walls and the variety of wrecked racquets that his cheeky daughter decided to hang as decorations.

Gene hasn’t been here in a while and he has forgotten that every smashed racquet has an accompanying story. “_Eddie Herr, 2002_,” a permanent marker under one misshapen racquet said. “_Wimbledon Girls’ Quarterfinals, 2004,_” says the caption of a particularly mangled Wilson. “_If you want to accomplish something in tennis,_” Gene remembers saying to Cosima the night before the Wimbledon racquet got smashed on the pristine grass of SW 19, “_play the finals of Wimbledon._” Standing in a room adorned with Cosima’s interesting tennis history, he kind of regrets ever saying those words knowing about his daughter’s preference and proclivity for red clay even then.

A car arriving in the driveway pulled Gene out of his thoughts as he makes his way back to the front yard. From where he’s standing, he can see Cosima with a grin on her face as she parks the car and gets the keys, while a blonde woman emerges from the passenger seat to take out a small overnight bag. With bags on each hand, Gene can see his daughter putting an arm around the taller figure, still with that smile on her face. “_She looks happy,_” Gene thinks and he smiles at the sentiment.

“Pops!” Cosima says running to him with a rolling carry-on bag, leaving her amused companion at the edge of the yard. “So good to see you,” she says.

“This is a great surprise, sport,” he answers as he takes the bag. With a nod towards the blonde behind them, Cosima runs back to the woman, grabbing her hand. “Dad, this is Delphine. Delphine, this is my Dad, Gene Niehaus.”

“Hello,” the woman introduced by his daughter says as she shyly comes in for a polite kiss on both cheeks. “I’m so sorry to intrude on your time with your daughter,” she adds. Gene couldn’t shake the feeling of familiarity – like she’s seen her before, but he couldn’t quite place where. “Oh no, no,” he answers instead. “We’re thrilled to have you here, Delphine.”

“Cosima!” His wife says, emerging from the house and not even bothering to remove the green apron around her waist. “It’s so good to see you,” she says as she gives their daughter a bear hug and numerous kisses on her face. “Hi,” she says after letting go of her daughter and straightening her shirt and her slacks. “I’m Sally Niehaus, this one’s mom,” and instead of a polite handshake, Sally couldn’t help but hug their guest.

“I’m Delphine Cormier,” she answers. “This one’s girlfriend,” their daughter interrupts. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Delphine says over his wife’s shoulder.

“_Girlfriend,”_ Gene thinks and he exchange glances with a beaming Cosima, “_she is happy,_” he thinks as he carries the girls’ bags inside the house.

They were finally able to place why Cosima’s girlfriend looks familiar as they drink a few glasses of wine while waiting for dinner to be ready. “We met at a hit and giggle in Montreal,” Cosima said when Sally asked how they met, “she’s an actor and we were paired together at the last minute.”

“That’s where I know you from!” Gene said a bit louder than his usual indoor voice. “I saw a billboard of you when we were dropping some stuff at Cosima’s apartment in the city. A spy show of some sort…”

“Yes,” Delphine answered with a slight blush as Sally returns with their main course and a fresh batch of questions about the films and TV shows she’s starred in. Pretty soon, the dinner has intermingled with an amusing show of photo albums from when Cosima was a baby up until her graduation from college. And while Sally shows Delphine photos of their young daughter in tournaments – be it hoisting trophies or waiting patiently on bleachers; and numerous childhood pictures on the boat – be it wearing her favorite one-piece red, floral swimsuit or wearing nothing but an up-to-no-good grin, Cosima gently nudges Gene.

“I have a couple of things for you, Dad,” she said before excusing herself, giving both women a kiss, and getting her luggage. Gene kisses his wife on her head and gives Delphine a polite smile before following his daughter to his home office. When he got to the room, Cosima was already opening the luggage and getting out two extremely bubble-wrapped boxes.

“This one’s from Kremlin,” she says, handing him a small but heavy trophy with a hefty wooden base. “And this one’s from Sofia,” she says taking out a bigger and shinier silver trophy with intricate gold linings and what looks like a golden quail egg on top of it.

“You should really put some of these at your place,” Gene says as he moves his daughter’s latest trophy from New Haven which arrived via post around August to make room for the two new ones presented to him.

“You know I don’t like seeing them, Dad,” Cosima answers, “makes me rest on my laurels or whatever.” Gene just nods his head as he examines the shiny new additions. It seems only yesterday when Cosima won her first ever tennis trophy - a small under-10 state tournament in Cerritos. The trophy is just about the size of a small bottle of Minute Maid, but his daughter cherished it so much that she took it wherever she went. She finally let go of it when she unexpectedly lost in a local tournament, an upset defeat by a younger girl who actually became one of his students two years ago. The evidence of the lost is currently hanging in his daughter’s room - “_Claremont Club Invitational, 1998,_” scribbled under a destroyed smaller racquet.

“So, how have you been?” Cosima asks as she takes the seat by the desk. “Mom tells me things have been going great, but you guys want to go back on the boat right away.”

“It’s a small inconvenience,” Gene says, taking the seat next to his daughter, “we’ll have more time out on sea once this semester’s over. Anyway, how have you been?”

“Great,” and she smiles, “as you can see I just brought home two new trophies for you.”

“I wasn’t asking about that,” he smirks, “I’m talking about the girl. You really like this one, huh? Enough for you to introduce her to us and for you to endure the humiliation that only a mother with books of incriminating photos can stir up...” To be honest, Gene doesn’t need Cosima to answer his question – one good look at his daughter’s flushed face is enough indication to know how she feels.

“She’s really great, Dad,” she says instead, “I wouldn’t bring her here if it’s not serious.” He was about to ask more, but their conversation was interrupted by a string of loud laughter from the dining table.

“I think you’re Mom just whipped out your baby photos, kid,” Gene says as he stood up, “go and save yourself.” Cosima gives him a worried but excited smile before heading back.

Cosima and Delphine ended up staying with Sally and Gene for an extra night after a particularly tiring day out on the boat the day after the dinner. Gene found out that her daughter is right – Delphine is great. It’s the little things, he believes, that made him accept his daughter’s assessment: offering to cook even when she’s also tired; the way she lights up when Cosima enters the room or tells a story; the way she talks about her work – not self-indulgent, but curious about what else she can do; and how she asked Sally for permission to take a picture of a particularly funny baby photo where a 2-year-old Cosima is bathed in applesauce and seems to have no regrets about it.

They all promised to see each other again before Cosima’s pre-season training starts, clearing a few days in their calendar to make the rendezvous happen. When they left, Sally had asked him to clean up the cottage as she tidies around the main house. Gene knows his daughter well enough to expect a mess so he’s surprised when he sees cleanliness – the dishes are all washed, wiped, and arranged on the dispenser; the usually messy coffee table organized; and the bed is meticulously made. As he takes off the used sheets on his daughter’s bed, he notices a new addition to the wall of destruction – one of Cosima’s newer racquets, bent on both sides with most of the strings still intact. Under it is an unfamiliar handwriting – “_US Open 2013, Semifinals_”.

Gene wanted to ask a question to his daughter that night in his office, but standing in the cottage now, he knows he didn’t have to. The answer to his question - “_Do you love her?_” - is right there in black, permanent marker. More than earning success as a tennis player, Gene wants his daughter to not only find happiness but to accept it – be it on court or outside it. As he examines the new scribbles, he can only smile at how his wish seemed to have come true.

_\-----_

_“Now, I know it’s still far and I know I should let you go on vacation first – you’ve earned it - but I want to ask what your plans are for the pre-season. A lot of people are saying that a factor to your success this year is the fact that you stuck to your guns and stayed in San Francisco for your pre-season training...”_

_“People are saying that?”_

_“Yeah...So in preparation for 2014, are you sticking to San Francisco or going somewhere else?”_

_“To be honest, that wasn't by design. When we decided to train in San Francisco, it’s because of the money – or lack of it. UC Berkeley was kind enough to let us use their tennis facilities in exchange for court time with student athletes. A local San Fran tennis club allowed us to train for almost nothing in return – just a couple of Instagram and Facebook posts here and there. Sarah and Felix stayed in my apartment and in my parent’s house the entire time, we essentially smooched off my parents. This year is a little different, we’re mainly sticking with it – the training camp will be in Montreal first then in San Francisco.”_

_“Why Montreal?”_

_“Because it has become my second favorite city after San Fran.”_

_“Because you did so well in the Rogers Cup?”_

_“Yeah, you can say that.”_

_\----_

**November 21, 2013 - Montreal**

It was easy for Cosima to come up with a routine since arriving in Delphine’s home. Her day starts early, around 5:30 in the morning with a run. The community where the house by the river is located is surrounded by flat roads, making the jogging path she created easier on the knees and ankles. The temperature and the air are just right most of the time, giving the morning run a mini-endurance, high-altitude feel to it. The jog ends in an hour on Delphine’s backyard, just in time for her to stretch and rehydrate while watching the sunrise.

She goes for a hot shower after – sometimes alone, but most days she’s joined by a still sleepy but enthusiastic girlfriend. Sometimes, the shower is just a shower – especially when Delphine is running late for her call time. And sometimes, the shower becomes an extension of the bedroom. Over the course of a week since first arriving in Quebec, the same can now be said about the kitchen, the living room, the blonde’s home office, and more recently the outdoor patio. It took Cosima by surprise at first – how easy Delphine adjusted from sleeping exclusively with men to sleeping with a woman. “I love it,” she remembers her saying in Moscow after winning the finals against Sam Stosur, “because it’s you...and because there is minimal downtime.” They spent the next few hours deliciously putting her reason to the test.

The shower ends and Cosima reaches out for a thick robe to make her smoothies and protein shakes in the kitchen. Felix made sure that she has the right equipment for the concoctions so he sent his own machine to Delphine’s house. While she chops fruits, Delphine comes in to cook a quick breakfast - usually pancakes or waffles with some fruits. But when she has more time, she whips up something more elaborate: fried brown rice with vegetables; Eggs Benedict on English muffins with Canadian bacon; toasts, sausages, and baked beans with maple syrup – which at first sounds weird, but much to Cosima’s surprise, turned out to be a pretty tasty side dish.

They eat their breakfast on the small kitchen nook - sometimes in companionable silence, sometimes complete with stories about their plans for the day and interesting tidbits they experienced, read, or heard somewhere. Delphine always finishes her food first, making sure to have time for another cup of coffee while Cosima drinks her first cup of tea or black coffee. She goes on to dress while Cosima takes care of the dishes. 30 to 45 minutes after breakfast and Delphine is kissing her senseless in between see-you-laters, have-a-great-days, and love-yous.

Alone in the house, Cosima can’t help but think how surprisingly easy it is to be essentially living together with Delphine. When she updated Sarah about arriving in Montreal, her coach couldn’t help but snort out a joke about lesbians and U-Hauls. She doesn’t mind the ribbing or the speed in which her relationship is going. The way Cosima sees it, it’s better to have all these experiences with Delphine now while they still have the time and while the relationship is still pretty private.

Cosima packs a change of clothes and her tennis gear to drive to the nearest tennis facility an hour after Delphine leaves. She insisted on letting Cosima use her other car instead of renting one, which makes the short 30 minute journey cheaper and more convenient. After stretching and a short skipping rope workout, Cosima proceeds to practice for an hour or two - sometimes with a club pro, sometimes all by herself to practice her serve and movement. She then uses the gym, making sure to follow Felix’s strict instructions and regimens. After a quick shower, she heads to a restaurant that specializes in Mexican vegetarian meals for lunch. When she finishes early, she takes a leisurely walk on a nearby park. She’s usually back at the house before 3 p.m., just in time for a short nap and to catch up on her reading or watch some T.V. Delphine usually arrives around 8 or 9 in the evening, bearing takeout food or a box of pizza. Whenever she can, Cosima gives her tired girlfriend a foot or back massage - growing addicted to the sounds the blonde makes as she kneads and rubs sore, overworked muscles. 

Today though, the routine has to make room for a few adjustments. It started with a text from her girlfriend as she was making her way back to the car from a walk in the park, telling her that she might be home earlier than usual and asking what is she in the mood for, dinner-wise. After a few steamy exchanges about where her mouth has been in the past 24 hours, they agreed on a simple surf and turf dinner of steak and shrimp.

Giddy about dinner plans, she’s surprised to see an unfamiliar car on the driveway when she arrived at the house. Parking next to it, she sees a woman by the front door as she gets her bags from the compartment. The woman stops to watch her as she walks to the house with the keys in her hand.

“Hi,” Cosima says a few meters away from the door, “can I help you?” From afar, she can see that the woman in typical office attire is only a bit taller than her with short, medium blonde hair. Up close though, she realizes that she’s seen this woman before – in the few photos inside her girlfriend’s house.

“Hello,” the woman says – her voice melodious and soft. “I am Suzanne. I’m just dropping off some of Delphine’s mail for her.” Cosima notices the woman eyeing her carefully without losing a timid, polite smile very similar to that of her daughter’s. “You are my Delphy’s Cosima, yes?”

“Yes,” Cosima answers with an unfamiliar shyness. They were set to surprise Suzanne this weekend - Cosima even fuzzed about possible gifts for her girlfriend’s mother before settling for a nice blue sweater and a bottle of perfume that Delphine assured her she would both like. “It’s very good to meet you, finally,” she adds.

“Why don’t we go inside?” Suzanne says, pointing to the keys Cosima is holding. “I can keep you company for a bit. I know Delphy works late...”

“She’s actually coming home early today,” she answers as she unlocks the door and takes off her jacket, “we can have a cup of coffee while we wait for her,” and she proceeds to drop her bags by the coat closet, “and maybe you can stay for dinner?”

“I would love it,” Suzanne says as she folds the coats and hangs them in the closet.

“Let me get a plate for that,” Cosima says, noticing before going to the kitchen that apart from a bunch of envelopes, Suzanne is also carrying what looks like a food container.

“Ah yes, this will go great with our coffee,” Suzanne exclaims, joining Cosima in the kitchen and helping herself with a plate. “These are Grandpères – Delphy’s favorite. Ehmm,” and she bites her lip just like Delphine, “they’re maple dumplings. It goes well with coffee and this,” Suzanne says as she tops it with whipped cream.

Cosima waits for their coffee, scared at the thought of eating a dumpling after what happened in Beijing. Looking at the delectable dessert, she can literally hear Felix counting calories and sugar contents in her head. She proceeds to walk to the nook with two cups of coffee while Suzanne takes two smaller plates and places a couple of maple dumplings on each. Cosima smiles, “_I would do anything for this woman to like me,_” and as soon as she puts down the coffees, she gets two teaspoons from the cupboard, returning to the small table with a smile as she hands one to Suzanne.

“Merci,” she says before taking a spoonful of dumplings and a cautious sip of her coffee. “I actually wasn’t expecting anyone to be here, but this is a nice surprise,” Suzanne adds.

“Delphine is actually going to visit you at your house...with me...this weekend,” Cosima says, taking a big bite of her Grandpères. It is as delicious as it looks and one bite has helped in making her forget about her Beijing dumplings and her nervousness about meeting Delphine’s mother for the first time.

“It’s good to meet you earlier then,” Suzanne answers with a smile. “You make very nice coffee, Cosima – strong with just the right amount of cream. Delphy tends to over-sugar and over-milk her coffee...”

“She does do that,” Cosima says with a grin, “but you know what they say about a cup of coffee – when it’s made for you by someone else, it’ll always taste better. So over-sugared or not, I’d drink it.” Her words have put a smile on Suzanne’s face, much to Cosima’s surprise and delight. “You have a nice car by the way, Mrs. Cormier,” she adds, “I’ve always had a thing for old Volkswagens...I drove an old bug all throughout college.”

“Please, just Suzanne,” and she proceeds to pat Cosima’s outstretched arm in reassurance. “It’s actually Delphine’s car...well, Pierre’s - her Papa. He left it to her before he died,” and she takes a gulp of coffee, smiling as she put down the mug. “Cars like that need a lot of attention, a lot of maintenance, and with Delphy very busy, she asked me to look after it for her. Where is your car now?”

“It sure looks well taken care of,” Cosima says, eyeing the rest of the dessert, tempted to go in for seconds after finishing her plate. “I had to sell mine. I couldn’t tend to it...didn’t have the time or the money.”

“Cars are easy,” Suzanne exclaims with a sad smile as she gives Cosima two more dumplings from the bigger plate, “and if you can drive a stick, you’re free to borrow it any time. Tell me when you’re in the city and maybe you can take it out for a spin.”

“I’m actually in the city a lot – every day except weekends,” Cosima confides. “I train for a bit at Parc Kent...”

“My office is near Parc Kent,” Suzanne shares, “let me give you my number and maybe we can have lunch while you’re here?”

“I would love that,” Cosima replies. She must have said something right or something witty if Delphine’s mom wants to actually spend some time to get to know her. “But lunch is on me,” she adds.

As Suzanne nods and asks her how she found her maple dumplings, the front door opens. Delphine quickly runs to her mother, who takes the bags of groceries from her arms before giving her a warm hug. From where she’s sitting, Cosima can tell that Suzanne is whispering something in her daughter’s ear. Whatever she said clearly made Delphine happy and as she walks to give her a kiss, she looks at her mother with a smile and says, “C'est bien elle, Maman, C'est bien elle.” 

\----

_“Obviously, your 2013 season is one that is filled with well-deserved success - you’d be ranked 11th by the start of the season. But with success comes expectations. Obviously coming into 2014, the expectations will be higher for you – other players will be more wary of you. Will your 2013 success relax you or would it be a burden? Do you think you’re capable of closer scrutiny - of suddenly having a big, fat target on your back?”_

_“That’s an interesting question. The thing is when you lose and you’re ranked 70 to 100 nobody notices because nobody cares about you to be honest. But when you climb up the rankings, it’s a different story - the pressure increases as you win tournaments. I don’t know if I’m ready for greater expectations or closer scrutiny...but I think even if there would be tough moments next year, the beauty of the journey that I’ve been on over the last three years is that I don’t have one regret. When I made the decision to come back to tennis, I did it for myself. I wanted to make my own decisions, be accountable for the good and the bad. I guess what I’m trying to say is the titles and the accolades are awesome – more of them would be great, but they’re not the only things making me happy.”_

\-----

**November 30, 2013 - San Francisco**

“Do you have it?” Cosima asks Sarah and Felix after dinner. Although half the time she doesn’t know what they’re talking about, Delphine can’t help but watch the trio with amusement. Getting to know Cosima means getting to know everyone around her and with their pre-season training about to begin tomorrow, Delphine has been getting to know the two people closest to Cosima these past few days.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s here,” Sarah says as she rummages in her duffel bag for what seems like a tin of Altoids that she sets down on the coffee table. Cosima immediately wraps an arm around Delphine when she came back to join them in the living room after washing the dishes. Sitting on the carpet, she simmers in confusion as Sarah opens the tin case – there are no mints in there, just small pieces of folded paper.

“I’ll open mine first,” and Felix reaches into the tin case to grab a folded yellow post-it before re-taking his seat on the couch.

“What did you write down?” Sarah asks before taking a swig of her beer and sitting beside her brother.

“17,” Felix says with a smile, “that’s pretty close – only six spots short.”

“What is this?” Delphine finally blurts out as Cosima begins to grab a light green folded paper.

“Oh, it’s this little tradition we have,” Cosima explains, her breath tickling the shell of her ear. “Every year before pre-season starts, we try to guess what my ranking would be by the end of the year. The one who makes the closest guess wins. Last year’s winner is 41 – two spots higher than my actual rank of 43.”

“Wins what?” Delphine asks before giving Cosima a kiss on her cheek.

“Bragging rights, mostly,” her girlfriend says with cheeky grin, “and the winner’s preferred bottle of liquor...”

“It’s been bourbon since 2011, blondie,” Sarah brags. “I don’t know why they even try to make a contest out of this. So what did you write down?” She asks Cosima.

“Oh,” and Cosima unfolds her entry, “32,” she says as she throws the piece of paper on the table.

“And you always guess too low,” Felix reacts. “She always downplays her chances,” he says to Delphine.

“I’d like to think I’m being realistic,” Cosima says, holding on to Delphine tighter.

“There are more than three pieces of paper in there,” Delphine says, gently counting the contents of the tin case with her finger.

“Yeah,” Cosima says, “Mom and Dad send their guesses, as well as Siobhan,” and Cosima proceeds to get two crumpled pink post-its. “Sally Niehaus’ entry,” she says as she opens one is, “Wow, ‘lucky number 7’, too high, Mom, too high.”

“It’s still better than Fee’s guess,” Sarah chirps, making Felix playfully throw his entry on his sister’s face.

“Gene Niehaus says,” and Cosima opens the other pink post-it, “huh,15.”

“That’s a good guess,” Sarah says, though Delphine can tell by the tone of her voice that her guess is still better than that of Cosima’s dad.

“Siobhan wrote down 25,” Felix says, taking the last paper on the tin case.

“See,” Cosima says before taking a sip of water, “Siobhan is realistic like me. Okay champ, what do you have?”

With a sly grin, Sarah unfolds her entry and presents it proudly. “Lucky number 13,” she says, “only a couple of ranks lower. I’d cash in the bourbon before Christmas, by the way,” and she gets a post-it pad and a couple of pens from the coffee table. “Come on, write your predictions.”

Delphine was pleasantly surprised when Sarah hands her a post-it and a pen. “Now I know you’re new at this,” Cosima says to her as she re-positions herself so she can write down her guess, “but the trick here is to be realistic.” Delphine then playfully tries to take a peek at Cosima’s paper. “Hey, no peeking,” she says, giving her a light pinch on her waist.

“Don’t listen to her,” Sarah says as she opens another bottle of beer. “The key to this game is to aim high, then take it down by five or six notches. It has worked for me for years...”

Delphine looks at Cosima as she takes the cap off her pen. When she looks at her - be it in a tennis court or outside of one in the past weeks they have spent together – she can’t help but think and feel that the woman before her is somebody who can move mountains; somebody who unflinchingly embraces adversities and challenges without being totally consumed by it. And as she writes down a number on a piece of paper, the bragging rights and a nice bottle of French wine became irrelevant – for in her mind and in her heart, Cosima will always be a winner, an inspiration. She gives Cosima a lingering kiss as she folds her entry and puts it in the tin, wishing that she'd still be here next year and in the years to come to check on their guesses.


	16. Melbourne Blues, Part 1: January 13-20, 2014

**Australian Open 2014, First Round**

“90% of a tennis coach’s job is finding ways to give your player good headspace,” Siobhan told Sarah before she embarked on her first tournament as Cosima’s coach. “When I was coaching you,” Siobhan added, “almost all my time was devoted to mentally sorting you out – with mixed results.” As Sarah drinks her coffee while watching Cosima play her first round of the Australian Open, she can imagine Siobhan in Toronto enjoying a generous glass of Jameson whiskey - probably having a hearty chuckle at how the tables have turned.

To say that Siobhan’s right is an understatement. Skills-wise, Cosima was already on her way to having a complete game at the beginning of their coach-player relationship. But while Cosima outside tennis is easygoing, kind, and charming, she’s something else within the confines of a tennis court. She’s argumentative and hot-headed, easily becoming negative and losing focus as she scolds herself harshly over the smallest of errors.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to Sarah anymore – after all, she had seen her smash a racquet to smithereens from across the net back in the day. But it was different when she saw it through the eyes of a coach – the anger that limits her court vision; mentally checking-out during crucial moments in a match; and the days of wallowing after a loss. After three fruitless tournaments together, Sarah knew that Cosima’s sky-is-falling attitude had to go for the sake of her tennis future and her mental health. And because her ward is stubborn and very likely to resist change, she had to find subtle ways to instigate the shift in mindset.

Sarah played the long game, turning to conversations and taking advantage of shared rooms and the long hours of travelling to get Cosima to talk and engage. “Who are you when everything you’ve accomplished is taken away from you?” She asked Cosima in a 24-hour roadside diner on the way to a Challenger tournament around this time back in 2011. While it’s only natural for people to attach their identities to what they do, Sarah knows from experience that for professional tennis players, the attachment can get all too consuming. From a young age, you have to practice daily or enrol in a tennis academy if you have the means – and pretty soon if you turn out to be promising, your whole life will revolve around chasing a small, fuzzy, yellow ball. The life that comes with being a pro is pretty limited, making it easy for tennis players to think that that’s all they are in life – tennis players.

She believed that Cosima’s decision to go to college instead of turning pro was her way of expanding her horizons, and she admired her for doing it. But Sarah felt that that’s the source of her on-court frustration and fury. Cosima, who’s clearly more than just a tennis player – who can be a scientist, who loves girls, who likes weed and fast food, who marches to the beat of her own drum – felt the need to make herself small enough to fit back to that limited life of practicing, tournaments, and travelling. And in spite of her efforts to slot herself right back in, she continued to string up losses and injuries. Add the long-lost prodigy angle and she was guaranteed to be a perfect passing calamity on a tennis court.

So their struggling years were rife with conversations and stories about life outside the tour and what Cosima plans on doing if their tennis adventure didn’t work out. The overarching aim of those talks is to instill in Cosima that she’s not a tennis player – _she just plays tennis_ – and that it’s okay to feel that way. And in that perspective, she won’t feel that the world is ending every time she loses a match or make an error. Getting Felix on board - somebody whose mantra in life is let’s have a beer after a loss and work again tomorrow - was the last piece of the puzzle.

“Dude, you totally Miyagi’d me,” Sarah remembers Cosima telling her with a grin when she first said in an interview that her life is pretty awesome because it’s more than just tennis. That memory - along with the fact that Cosima is now actually trying to problem-solve instead of smashing her racquet or berating herself - made her smile, even if the American is trailing her younger, lower-ranked opponent by 2-4 in the first set.

They were the first match of the hot and humid day, but Sarah and Felix doubt that that’s what’s causing her trouble. One of Cosima’s tennis neuroses revolve around facing opponents who she either haven’t played against or know very little of, and their first round opponent – a 16-year-old named Naomi Osaka who was given a tournament wildcard – happens to be a combination of both. For two days, Sarah studied what little they have about the 153-ranked Japanese girl, with Delphine being an unlikely source of their resources.

“Your girlfriend actually has one of those expensive tennis subscriptions,” Sarah said to Cosima in their hotel room while she watched one of Osaka’s recent matches at a 25K tournament in El Paso. “Thank her plenty for this,” she added.

“We can actually afford to get one of those now,” Cosima said to her before whispering a “_thank you_” to Delphine who was on the phone with her. When she ended the call with a quiet “_I love you_”, she joined Sarah in front of the TV. “So what do you think of her?” She asked.

“Easy power for a 16 year old,” Sarah uttered with an uneasy shrug of her shoulders. “Good serve, killer forehand, likes the baseline, but her movement still needs work. Give it a few years and she’ll be huge...” Sarah rewound the video to the last game, “she’s impatient,” pointing out a particular point in the match, “she tends to spray, take shortcuts to end rallies quicker.” And after watching two more matches together, they came up with a strategy focused on frustrating Naomi by making her move all over the court.

Sarah knows that Plan A is not working even before the score became 5-2. While they underestimated the kid’s capacity to adjust and run, she can see that Cosima is trying new things: the slider serve out-wide that she absolutely hates to do in practice; taking smart risks by painting the lines; short but booming cross-court passes that requires a calculated flick of the wrist. She can only hope that Cosima can weather the upset storm by stringing enough points together. A little luck also wouldn’t hurt.

“Miss Osaka would be receiving an off-court medical timeout,” the umpire suddenly announced during the changeover before Cosima serves to try to stay in the first set, which surprised Sarah.

“What’s going on?” She asks Felix, who is listening to the radio coverage on his phone.

“Apparently she’s having trouble breathing,” Felix answers with a smirk while re-wearing one earphone. Sarah knows the reason behind his reaction – they’ve trained Cosima to clock in at least three hours every time she steps on court, and if this match turns out to be a test of endurance, they’d have a chance to wiggle out of trouble.

“Rookie mistake,” Sarah mumbles, “you don’t kill your own momentum when you’re one game away from winning the set. Good for us though...”

The match finally turned after the medical timeout. When Osaka came back to receive, Cosima went down 15-40 before bravely saving two break and set points – one via a slow but well-placed serve, another via a forehand that required her to approach the net. At deuce, Cosima lets off a well-timed return that clipped the edge of the line. She finally got to 5-3 when her opponent swung too strongly which flung the ball to the stands. Ruffled and probably pissed by the two set points she didn’t convert, the youngster began to spray. Sarah enthusiastically watches as Cosima breaks back for 5-4 then holds serve for 5-5. Before they knew it, they’re going to a first set tiebreak.

“It’s to our advantage,” Felix assures Sarah, “we’re more experienced, fitter.” And as Cosima pulls off a Houdini in the tiebreak, winning it at 7-5, Sarah couldn’t help but chuckle in surprise and relief that they’re actually up by one set and that their conversations actually worked.

But over the years of working together, Sarah knows that when it comes to Cosima and tennis, it isn’t over until she’s shaking her opponent’s hand and raising her arms in victory. She watched closely as Cosima started the second set on her serve, clapping enthusiastically when she served a love game for a 1-0 start. And just when Sarah allowed herself to believe that Cosima already solved the puzzle, the dreadlocked American awkwardly trips on herself on the court after chasing a strong forehand meant to get her out of position.

“Fuck me! Not again...” Felix curses as he stands from his seat while yanking out his earphone. Sarah can only try to project calmness as she watches the scene: Cosima holding the twisted limb – her right ankle this time – before sitting on the court and resting her head on her knee while she winces in pain.

“It looks worse than New York,” Felix added as he watches the replay of the incident on Court 7’s big screen and Sarah nodded. Unlike in New York where she was able to stand up immediately after the fall, Cosima is still on the ground – unable to walk to her chair as she receives attention from a tournament physio right there at the edge of the deuce court. “I taped them as tight as possible,” Felix says in slight panic as he runs both hands on his hair.

“Come on, Cos, get up...” Sarah whispers while Cosima is surrounded by the physio, the tournament supervisor, and two ball kids with a towel and an umbrella. The Court 7 crowd that had gone silent when Cosima fell down has erupted in polite cheers when the physio helps Cosima to her feet. She had her hands on her knees for a minute to catch her breath and get used to the pain before walking to her chair.

“We never trained her for this...” Sarah worriedly says as Cosima gets a lengthy injury timeout.

“For what?” Felix asks while closely observing the painkiller being provided to Cosima. Sarah could feel his sigh of relief when the physio didn’t take out the kink-free ankle taping that held, and most likely helped prevent a worse injury.

“Playing on one leg,” and she points at Cosima who’s gotten up from her chair, obviously favoring one leg over the other. “It’s all mental now,” she adds, unable to hide her worry behind a poker face.

As the match wore on, Sarah doesn’t know what surprised her more – the fact that Cosima is crafty enough to play with minimal movement or that Cosima, aching ankle and all, is actually being positive on court, encouraging herself instead of the usual self-deprecating sneers she lets out when she makes mistakes. Up 4-1 with a chance to break for a 5-1 lead, Cosima’s opponent wisely moved her from side to side, making her chase shots that would hurt the ankle. Bent and outstretched, Cosima struggled to return one shot which primed the ball for an easy smash.

But somehow, Cosima gingerly ran to where she guessed the ball is targeted to land, enabling her to make a hat-trick of a return that landed on the open court. An exhausted Cosima raises her arms after, and Sarah with her chin resting over clasp hands can’t help but let out a proud smile. From there, her much younger opponent who finally got caught up in the magnitude of the moment continued to wither. Cosima ended up winning her first round match 7-6, 6-1 in an hour and 51 minutes.

It might be a Pyrrhic victory – playing in the second round is a big question mark right now with that bum ankle – but as Cosima packs her bag, she turns to look at Sarah with a clenched fist and an exhausted but determined smile. As she returns her ward’s smile, Sarah couldn’t help but hope that somewhere in Toronto, Siobhan is watching and looking on proudly at the lessons she imparted to her that continue to thrive in Cosima.

\-----

**Second Round**

Delphine drinks another cup of coffee in an effort to stay up to watch Cosima’s second round match. Unlike the first one which was shown live around seven in the evening in Toronto, her girlfriend’s second round game is one of the early night-session matches which means it’s scheduled to air around 2 a.m. It was only 11 p.m. when Delphine got home from the studio to her Toronto flat, and while she thought about taking a nap to pass the time, she got a bit worried that if she does she might sleep right through the entire thing. She ended up going to the kitchen to make coffee instead of burrowing in the couch.

She lights a cigarette to help stay awake, not that she needs to - the coffee and her thoughts alone have been doing a good job at keeping her from sleeping. She misses Cosima badly. She’s exhausted from work. She’s racked with guilt about not being in Melbourne for the Australian Open. Even if Delphine wanted to come and watch Cosima, she couldn’t - filming for the new season of Totentanz started a week before the first grand slam of the tennis season. And even before the cameras started rolling, Cosima was already half a world away playing a warm-up tournament in Sydney. They spent the few remaining days of the off-season in Toronto, culminating at a New Year’s Eve Dinner at Sarah’s home where they shared their first kiss of 2014.

Once they were back at the flat, Cosima reached inside the outer pocket of her already-packed suitcase. “This is my tournament schedule for the year,” she said when she rejoined Delphine on the couch for a nightcap. “Barring any injuries, that’s where I’ll be,” and she leaned in for a kiss.

“I can’t wait to watch you in Paris,” she whispered as she continued the kiss which led to a hugely satisfying but sleepless night.

Delphine looks at the two-page tournament schedule now and sighs. She’s had long-distance relationships before, but nothing quite like what she has with Cosima now. With the others, the earlier they see each other again, the better. But while it would be great if she can kiss or touch Cosima again tomorrow or the day after that, being together earlier than expected means defeat and disappointment. To say that she’s still adjusting to her new normal is an understatement.

The adjustment would sure be easier if there were no images or videos of her girlfriend sprawled on a tennis court, nursing another painful injury. She made sure to be home in time for that match – sweet talking an assistant director to sort out the call sheet so she’d be out of the studio by 6 p.m. She put the TV on mute for the better part of the first set, unable to stand the commentators who salivated for an upset. She felt chilly, so she wore Cosima’s old, oversized Stanford sweatshirt while she was behind by three games. Cosima then levelled the match and won the set and Delphine - feeling more relaxed after anxiously sweating - took off the sweatshirt.

And then the injury happened. One look at Felix’s worried face was enough for her to know that the new injury was worse than the one she first saw live. She held on to the discarded sweatshirt in the eternity between Cosima’s stumble and treatment. She never let go of it until she got a hold of Cosima hours after the match ended.

“Cosima...” was all she can say when she answered her girlfriend’s phone call before putting her palm over her mouth to suppress a sob.

“I’m okay, babe, I’m okay,” Cosima said. “We’re getting it checked now just to be safe. Felix and I are optimistic that there isn’t a tear or anything serious.”

“So you’re going to play the second round?”

“Yeah. I’m in it for the long haul.”

Delphine let out a shuddery breath. “Just promise me you’ll get back to me in one piece, mon amour,” she answered, even if what she really wanted to say is ‘_don’t push too hard, there’ll be other tournaments_’. “I love you, I’m so proud of you.”

“Love you too. I gotta go. Video call later. Bye.”

Delphine tugs on the cozy sweatshirt now, treating it like a lucky binky and finding comfort in its smell: fresh soap, a hint of sweat, and Cosima’s mango and lime dreads shampoo. In the video call after her check-up, she lit up at seeing her girlfriend’s cheeky smile and in hearing her self-deprecating jokes about being a klutz. She tried not to show her worry when she saw Sarah and Felix in the background as they handed Cosima pain meds and iced and elevated the ailing ankle. When they ended the chat so that Cosima can sleep, she dialed another number.

“Sarah,” Delphine said, “I’m sorry to disturb you, I just want to know... From a scale of 1 to 10, 10 being the worst, how painful is it?”

“What did she tell you?” Sarah asked cautiously.

“That the doctor said there’s no tear, nothing’s broken...That she can still play but she needs to be careful.”

Delphine heard Sarah take a deep breath and for a second, she was worried that she was going to stick to the party line. “What she said is pretty much it - at least a sanitized version of things,” Sarah began to say. “It’s worse than New York’s. Playing the second round here is kinda a big risk since it’s very swollen and painful. But she decided she’s going to play so we just have to tape it even better than the first time. It’s probably an 8 now - hopefully tomorrow it goes down to a 7. We’d be lucky if we get it down to 6 for the second round.”

“She’s going to play at a 6 and that’s the best case scenario?” Delphine asked.

“Yeah,” Sarah replied. “What can I say? It’s her body, her biology, and it’s her decision. Besides,” her girlfriend’s coach added, “she usually plays at a 4 or 5. We never really go 100% pain-free in any match...”

“I hope her second round would be easy,” Delphine said.

“You and me both, blondie,” Sarah muttered. “Don’t worry until we really have to be - and Fee is here to make sure that doesn’t happen. In the meantime,” and Sarah yawned, “just keep talking to her. It’s good for her to not think about tennis in between matches.” 

She texted Cosima three hours before the match, wishing her good luck and telling her she loves her and misses her. After sending that message, she sent another one to Sarah, asking her if they managed to get the pain level down to a 6. She replied curtly – “_No – at 7._” And with a third cup of coffee in Delphine’s hand now, Cosima finally steps into the court with her opponent - a girl named Stefanie Voegele from Switzerland.

The tale of the tape says that Stefanie is only a couple of years younger than the American and that they’ve met three times in smaller WTA tournaments, with Cosima winning all of them in straight sets. This information made Delphine feel better for a while, only for the anxiety to creep back in when she sees the heavier wrapping around Cosima’s right ankle. “There’s always a first time for everything,” she says to no one, “especially if she’s playing hurt.”

She lit a cigarette when the match started, making sure that the pack and her lighter are within arm’s reach should she need to calm herself if the match goes on longer. But luckily for Delphine and her lungs, the match ends in just over an hour with Cosima comfortably winning at 6-2, 6-2.

If she didn’t know any better, she would think that Cosima has fully recovered from the injury she sustained just two days ago. She was firing on all cylinders, beautifully defending and covering the entire court, and brilliantly anticipating her opponent’s shots. She couldn’t help but clap when it ended, and the gutsy, determined smile on her girlfriend’s face is more than enough of an incentive for a sleepless night alone.

Delphine gets her phone and takes a selfie of her with the TV during the on-court interview. _“My girlfriend’s such a badass ;)”_, she wrote before sending it to Cosima. She was already preparing to go to bed to get as much sleep as she can before she goes to work when she received a reply.

“_I miss you so much_,” the message said along with a photo of Cosima wearing one of Delphine’s favorite sleep shirts over a cardigan bearing her sponsor’s logo.

It’s a gray shirt with a print of an angry cartoon steak wearing a power suit in a boardroom meeting, with the caption - “_A Controlling Steak in the Company_”. She bought it many years ago in Montreal because it made her laugh, but her smile now is only partly because of the pun. She had no idea Cosima packed the shirt with her to Australia.

“_You look good in my shirt, mon amour. I miss you so much too. Now give ‘em hell,_” she replied before closing her eyes and hoping for the best.

\-----

**Third Round**

Even before the day started, Felix had a feeling that this is not just an ordinary third round match. Unable to find the reasons why he felt this way, he stayed mostly silent during breakfast with Sarah and Cosima. He was so distracted about the feeling that something’s different that instead of going for his usual cup of tea in the morning, he poured himself a cup of coffee by mistake. That has happened before and normally, he’d just empty and wash the cup to get tea. But he ended up holding on to the bitter liquid as he sorted out his head to try to understand what it is about this match that felt different, that felt a bit off if he’s being honest.

He’s still holding on to the unwanted cup of coffee when they sat on the player’s box for Cosima’s next match. Maybe the feeling had something to do with their third round encounter with Lauren Davis, an American who – for a change – is shorter than Cosima by a few inches. It’s Sarah’s job to scout opponents but he’s aware that Lauren plays a game similar to Cosima’s. Felix knows that the intense plyometric training they did in the off season needs to come in handy because it’ll be a day filled with running and defending the court.

The ankle injury is still a lingering concern, he thinks, which could be contributing to the day’s gloom and doom theme. No matter how dominant Cosima was in the second round, they all know that they have to start from scratch every match. But as worrisome as the injury is, it has actually been a source of motivation for all of them. “I swear that I’m going to do all I can for your ankles to hold while we’re in Australia,” Felix remembers saying to Cosima the night after the first round when she decided to continue in the tournament even at the risk of aggravating the new injury. And making sure those ankles are protected at all times have become his life’s mission since the first twist back in New York.

Even if he didn’t say a word about it, the sinking feeling seem to have rub off on Cosima as she goes down in the first set, 4-6. Lauren has a powerful and aggressive backhand in her shot repertoire – something unexpected from such a diminutive player, and even if Cosima knew about it, Lauren’s backhand has been giving her headaches and ankle-aches all morning. He felt his heart drop to his stomach when his charge held on to her right ankle in the last game of the first set. He could only hope for the best when Sarah looked at him as if asking if he did all he could to minimize the pain.

Sarah had been convinced that the reason why he had held off on committing to Team Niehaus was because of the money and the demanding travel the job entails. Those things were never the deal breakers for him, but as Cosima takes to the service line to start the second set, Felix cannot help but think of how simple his life would have been if he declined his sister and his friend’s offer. He could be making almost the same amount as a tournament physio for the men’s tour and only travel to the major tournaments. He’ll have the time, connections, and resources to expand his private practice. He’d probably open a clinic in Toronto first before venturing into Florida or maybe even in London. Life would have been more relaxed - no doubt about it - but it would have been boring and safe.

Cosima goes up 3-0 in the second set and Felix claps out of relief that the ankle seems fine. He didn’t exactly tell Sarah that this is the reason why he played coy prior to accepting the gig: that being solely responsible for just one athlete’s overall health, conditioning, nutrition, and fitness feels too much for him to handle. That one wrong tweak of a muscle, one wrong nutrition advice, or one careless training exercise could spell the difference between competing in the finals and competing in qualies just to get to the main draw. Factor in the fact that the said athlete is Cosima – somebody he considers to be a friend and almost like another sister - and the responsibility gets even heavier, almost unbearable at times. It’s way different when he’s just a tournament physio - when there are other physios and trainers responsible for providing services to all players; when it didn’t matter if the players they treat win or lose their matches. 

But does he regret it? No, not really. Not when he sees Sarah’s reaction when Cosima integrates some of the things they’ve been practicing and working on during her matches. Not when Cosima has become more professional in the gym unlike when he just got on board. Not when a training regimen or a nutrition plan that he typed in his laptop is actually materializing in Cosima’s daily routine and matches. Not when they’re winning. Not even when they’re losing tournaments and drinking their sorrows away.

And definitely not when he sees what he’s seeing on court right now - the overflowing belief that Cosima now has with her game. The belief that she can adjust, that she can compete toe to toe with younger or higher-ranked opponents, that she can hang on when a tennis match becomes a street fight, that she can try again and do better after a loss.

Felix finally finishes his cup of coffee when they got into the third set after winning the second at 6-4. She looks over at Cosima after an hour and a half of playing, and she seems to be ready to go for at least another hour of tennis. He hopes for the sake of her ankle that she packs up the match as quickly as possible.

“I’m gonna go and get some tea,” Felix says to Sarah during a break before the start of the third. “You want something?”

“Nah, I’m fine,” Sarah answers, “just come back here as quickly as you can, you hear.”

“Yeah, of course,” he says, “why? Do you think something’s wrong?”

Sarah gives him a curt look before focusing her attention back on the court and on Cosima. “Yeah...Oh, I don’t know...But I couldn’t shake the feeling that we’re in for something...”

Felix walks away from the player’s box, unsure whether it’s a good or a bad thing that they all seem to be sharing a hive mind.

By the time he returned, Cosima has already broken her opponent and was serving for a 4-2 lead. It was going well, until Cosima’s 40-15 advantage turned to deuce, and then to a converted break point. At 4-4, Lauren got broken on serve which gave Cosima a chance to serve for the match. She squandered the chance after her crosscourt backhand shot went to the net. After being broken for a 5-all score, Cosima bends over at the service line as she clutches on her right ankle. By Felix’s estimate, she has run at least three kilometers in this match alone and that every rally averages around 14 shots. He knows Cosima’s lungs and legs can take it, but he’s doubtful if the compromised ankle can withstand the same physical punishment.

By the next game, Cosima breaks serve again, and just like five minutes ago, is once again serving for the match at 6-5. “Pack it up,” he mutters underneath his breath. It was a good thing that Sarah – whose ear is listening to the commentary today - didn’t hear him air out his frustrations over Cosima’s inability to close this match.

“Fuck...” Sarah whispers as she looks on the ground when Cosima gets broken while serving for the match for the second time. The game is now at 6-all.

It wasn’t long before the match became a tiring war of attrition, with Cosima serving for the win again when the score was at 8-7 only to be once again foiled. At 10-11, Cosima – who had served for the match thrice in the past 45 minutes – is staring at the barrel of two match points. “Well, it’s over,” Felix says almost in relief that the match and the tension will finally end even if they end up losing.

“She’s not done yet,” Sarah says. “We trained and worked better than that.” And like a prophecy, Cosima plays a ballsy game to level at 11-11 from being 15-40 down on the 22nd game of the third set. By this time, both players look so gassed – Cosima is loosening her shoes in an effort to try to feel anything from the tender ankle, while her opponent just asked for an injury timeout.

“Aah,” Sarah exclaims beside him while pressing the earpiece to her ear. “Her toenail fell off,” she says pointing to Lauren with a wince, “they’re taping the toe right now.”

It was four games later when Cosima broke again. At 14-13 serving for the match, Felix barely took a breath. Cosima finally landed at match point with a backhand winner, and after three hours and 44 minutes of brutal, punishing tennis, they finally get the third round win after Lauren pushed a forehand wide. Cosima can only raise a fist in exhaustion and disbelief as she gives a tired smile while pointing to him and Sarah. Before Felix knew it, the cameras have focused on them while they clap and breathe out sighs of relief.

“You gotta listen to this,” Sarah says with a grin while handing him the earpiece.

“_A tip of the hat to Felix Dawkins, the young man beside Cosima Niehaus’ coach, Sarah Manning,_” a broadcast commentator said. “_A player wouldn’t survive an almost four-hour match if not for the dedication of a talented physio that genuinely cares for you..._”

He smiles – not that he needs the validation or the credit for his choices, but at the fact that even if they ended up losing this marathon of a match, he wouldn’t trade it for a private clinic in Toronto or in Florida.

“Come on, let’s work,” he says as he gathers his things to meet Cosima in the tunnels. Felix has already listed the things Cosima would need. She needs to eat, she needs to rehydrate, they would definitely need to ice that ankle, she needs time in an ice bath, and she would need a very painful but necessary massage after this match. Not to mention the recovery plan that needs to be put in place right away if they want a sliver of a chance in the fourth round.

Walking to the tunnels, Felix can’t help but laugh which made Sarah snort too. Hours before the match, he had a feeling that this third round would be different – he just didn’t know that he was at the precipice of seeing a classic unfold right before his eyes. That he had a bit of a hand in that magical encounter makes the decision to join this ragtag team well worth it. 

\----

**Fourth Round **

Court assignments have never been an issue for Cosima – especially in the days when she was perceived by tournament officials as someone who’s only a bit more popular than your average journeywoman. Before she started racking up wins, she knew she couldn’t demand for a specific court or a particular schedule because she didn’t have the wattage or social capital needed for such demands to be granted.

Court assignments still do not matter, even now that Cosima’s seeded 11 th , has a string of titles, and is becoming popular among fans and reporters. In general, Cosima’s a happy camper for as long as she and her opponent get to play in a safe and well-equipped court that has a row or two for their respective teams and support groups. Deep down, she tries to continue to hold on to the notion that in the grand scheme of things, all that really counts is that she’s able to give everything she’s got in any given match, which hopefully would lead to a win. 

But underneath it all, even if she doesn’t care about which court she ends up playing in, the way show courts are assigned still has a way of giving any player a reality check about their place in the sport. When the schedules and court assignments came out for the first round, she wasn’t surprised that she got Court 7 – a very nice, intimate court with Hawkeye that can hold about a thousand people. It was partially-filled when she and Naomi Osaka entered – which was a welcome sight for Cosima who has played in her fair share of almost-empty courts and stadiums since coming back to the sport.

Looking back, she got a bit of inspiration to right the ship when she noticed that as the match wore on, the court had become packed with spectators. Her first round match became intriguing for all the wrong reasons – the kid almost scored the biggest win of her young career; Cosima incurred a pesky injury that highlighted the Jello-like qualities of her ligaments; Fee looked like he’s about to cry when she twisted her ankle; she literally limped to the finish line. But the tournament bigwigs deemed it a good show rife with high drama which resulted to a night match schedule in Show Court Two for her second round.

Compared to Court 7, Show Court Two is bigger with a capacity of 3,000. It was half-empty when she and her opponent were playing, but it got filled with more people after her match because an Australian teenager was playing after them. Still, she played her absolute best and that’s all that mattered.

Then the third round that almost killed her happened at Hisense Arena - Melbourne Park’s third largest court, a cavernous stadium that can sit 10,500 people. It wasn’t the biggest stadium she’d ever played in – that honor belongs to New York’s Arthur Ashe Stadium. But she knew then that she wouldn’t have been assigned to Ashe if she weren’t up against Azarenka and if they weren’t playing in the semifinals. Being assigned to Hisense Arena on her own merits should have meant something to Cosima, but all it yielded was additional pressure and tension while up against a crafty and skilled opponent.

In the hours following her third round win over Lauren Davis, everybody was singing her praises.  _ “It was the best women’s match I’ve seen in a while,” _ said one tournament official. “ _ That was some drama and fight back, _ ” said a retired Aussie tennis player. Cosima knew that the hype that surrounded her third round encounter somewhat raised her stock among the tournament organizers. They probably believed that if she can bring the same attitude and fight in her upcoming matches, there’s no reason why she shouldn’t be assigned either a prime time slot or a major show court for her fourth round encounter. She figured she’d be okay with it – the important thing is that she’s still in the tournament.

Cosima first heard about where she’s possibly going to play her next match a couple of hours after the marathon match while slumped in the training room floor with a plate of food on her hands and an ice pack under her ankle. She and Felix overheard a tournament official and a couple of organizers while they were sorting out the schedule for the next two match days. When Sarah joined them with fresh towels, Cosima couldn’t help but confess to her coach that for the first time in her career, she had huge issues about her possible court assignment for their next match.

“It’s up to you, Cos...” Sarah said when Cosima asked what she should do about it. “You know I’d watch you play anywhere – even on a parking lot littered with portable toilets,” she added. Cosima didn’t have to ask Felix what he thought about it. After all, when they heard the tour organizers’ court assignment plans, he immediately rolled his eyes in disgust.

Cosima knew she had to say something before the match details are finalized and publicized so in the press conference for her third round win, she opened with a statement that she hurriedly wrote and proofread with her team in the locker room.

“Even when I was losing in the first round, I’ve always loved the Australian Open,” she started a bit nervously because public speaking was never her forte. “More than the amazing services available to all players regardless of ranking, Melbourne has the warmest, most enthusiastic, and kindest crowd that any tennis player would be honored to play in front of. With that said, as I move forward in this prestigious tournament, I am now expressing my strong personal preference to not play a single match in Margaret Court Arena.”

It’s an open secret in the tennis world that Margaret Court - a retired, 24-time grand slam winner from Australia - does not mince her words when talking about homosexuality. Her most recent dig was addressed to Casey Dellacqua – an Aussie and one of the nicest girls on tour - who recently welcomed a baby boy with her partner. Margaret reacted to the news about Casey's baby by writing a letter that was published by a local newspaper. In it, she said that children of diverse families are essentially robbed off the best possible way of life.

“I respect Margaret Court for all that she had accomplished as a tennis player. But as a lesbian and as a flawed but decent human being, I cannot and I will never get on board with the idea of playing in a stadium bearing the name of someone who spews, advocates, and preaches hateful and vitriolic remarks about the LGBTQ Community and LGBTQ Families every chance she gets.”

As she continued to speak, the murmurs inside the room had been replaced – to Cosima’s surprise – with claps and hollers. In the midst of all these, Cosima thought that this was the only moment she was thankful that Delphine didn’t travel with them to Melbourne. While her girlfriend assured her that she can deal with the public’s reaction to their relationship, Cosima wouldn’t want to cast the spotlight on their relationship in this manner. Besides, what she and Delphine have is still so young, so new – and the right time to come out as a couple will come in due time.

“I have been blessed to be able to play a sport that I believe has always had room for all kinds of players regardless of playing style, race, nationality, height, religious belief, and sexual preference. Having said that, I am making this decision not in an effort to sway other players to follow suit - I am making this decision because I don’t want to look back and regret not making a stand for what I believe in my heart to be right and decent. Thank you and I’m happy to answer your questions now.”

She can feel her phone vibrating while she spoke, reminding her of the implications of her statement. After sending a quick text to Delphine telling her about the statement and how much she loves her, she turned it off, wanting to minimize the distraction that her decision would surely bring.

In the hours after the press conference, the statement succeeded in thwarting the organizers’ initial plans to stage her fourth round match at Margaret Court Arena – the second biggest stadium in the venue. She then spent the hours leading to her next match shutting herself from the outside world, only focusing on recuperating from the almost four-hour match while talking to Delphine using Felix’s phone, and on the light practice session she had with Sarah.

When it came time to prepare for her fourth round clash with Carla Suarez Navarro, Cosima felt a bit nervous about the locker room’s collective reaction to her statement. She was prepared for indifference – players would be more focused on their game and their matches than what she said in her presser. But to her surprise, there were several who came to her locker to either tell her she has their support or to simply ask how she's holding up. 

They ended up being assigned the earliest match schedule at Show Court Two, and as she waits in the tunnels, Carla puts down her bags to stand beside her.

“It would suck to play there...You know why...” Carla says with a toothy but cautious smile. 

“I know,” and Cosima realizes that it was Carla’s way of saying thanks. “I’m sorry for all the unwanted attention this match got,” Cosima adds with a pat to her opponent and friend’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry,” Carla replies. “It won’t kill me,” and she slings back her tennis gear. “Good luck out there.”

“Good luck to you too,” and the announcer took to the mic and they enter the smaller stadium.

The match ended in just a little over an hour at 6-1, 6-3, with Cosima emerging as the victor. At the net, Carla gave her cheek kisses and a hug before walking off the stadium. In the press conference right after, she was asked for her comment about Margaret’s reaction to her statement.

“She said,” the reporter said before clearing his throat, “she’s disappointed that someone coming from America who still has so much to prove in her tennis career is unable to tolerate views that are not in line with her own.” 

Unsure how to answer eloquently because a  _ “Fuck you, Marge”, _ will simply not cut it, Cosima opens her phone. And amidst the sea of messages from Rachel and from reporters, one message stood out.

“ _ I love you too. I am so proud of you for doing the right thing. Take all the time you need, mon amour. I’m just here. _ ”

“ _ I miss you, babe. I wish you were here, _ ” and as she sends her reply, she feels more emboldened to react.

“I am more than just a tennis player,” Cosima answers as she longingly looks at her phone, “and for the record,” and she looks at the reporter straight in the eye, “I would rather go down as a slamless, long-lost tennis prodigy who never reached her full potential than be labelled as a homophobe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are too many tennis things in this chapter :) so if you have any questions (or if you just want to share what worked and didn't), please feel free to comment and I will try to answer them. 
> 
> Thank you again for reading and for the support for this fic. See you next week!
> 
> BTW, thanks to Corsan for doing a read through!


	17. Melbourne Blues, Part 2: January 20-25, 2014

**Quarterfinals**

The crisp, expensive white business suit was what Rachel Duncan planned to wear for this year’s Wimbledon Championships. When it was hand-delivered to her penthouse with a personal note from the designer, she already imagined how well it would accentuate the bow-adorned brooch in striped purple and green that she planned to wear while watching the finals from up in the royal box - a row away from the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge. She immediately had it stored in a section of her dresser with a dedicated ventilation system separate from all her other suits and evening wears, making sure that the help changes the sachets of cedar and lavender every other day to keep it smelling fresh.

She never imagined wearing it anywhere else, certainly not in Australia. She didn’t even include the Australian Open in her yearly itinerary – it’s too far, too humid even inside an air-conditioned office or a climate-controlled hotel suite. Besides, her clients didn’t mind her absence for as long as their sponsors are happy and new lucrative deals are in the offing. But Rachel needed to be in Melbourne now - not only to clean up Cosima Niehaus’ mess, but to capitalize on it. It took three assistants to fix her schedule and to secure her travel needs, while a sizeable amount had been spent for her to be here and for her plans to be set in motion. And much to her disdain, she is wearing the reserved, well-preserved suit now while sipping a dirty martini in a hotel bar after a series of meetings and negotiations with sponsors and tournament executives. 

She takes another sip of her drink, unimpressed with the quality of gin that the bartender chose. All she asked after a long day that started with a 16-hour flight was a decent drink, served in a glass instead of a plastic cup. So when she was asked what she wanted, her jet-lagged mind made her say, “I want your best martini.” She couldn’t help the sarcastic, unsatisfied smirk that erupted from her lips when the bartender asked her about his concoction now. “I should have made it myself,” Rachel added as she sniffs the swill of a drink served to her. She should have requested the concierge to get her the supplies for a proper martini and send it up to her suite. She shouldn’t have left it to chance.

She lets out a humorless grin as she pokes the olives in her glass. It was chance that got her in this situation in the first place - a chance coursed through a drunken dare. A few years ago at a party celebrating the company’s largest eight-figure sponsorship deal that she single-handedly brokered, a drunk colleague - Ferdinand Chevalier, tainted her achievements by accusing her of poaching already established athletes from other agents. 

“Of course you’re going to make them big,” he slurred in between gulps of vodka, “they already are! I bet you couldn’t sell a no-name, no-future son of a bitch even if your life depended on it!” It would have been easy to disregard his words as nothing but the sour-graping thoughts of a jealous and inferior co-worker, but to her surprise one of the higher-ups actually nodded. It was a weak, barely noticeable nod but it was still an acknowledgment of the validity of Ferdinand’s insinuations.

Before the party ended she asked her assistant, Martin, to give her the names of the company’s worst performing agents and have it ready on her desk by morning. She picked from the client list of the worst agent in the file, Marty Duko, who only had three clients under his name before going AWOL: a professional golfer with a very public drinking problem, a football player three months away from retiring, and a 21 year old tennis player from San Francisco. Rachel picked the no-name player with a weird name – Cosima Niehaus – because she was out to make a point, not to ruin her career by representing washed-up athletes.

The fact that Cosima turned out to be charming and easy on the eyes is something that Rachel attributed to sheer, dumb luck. She didn’t win any of the tournaments she joined in, but she did have quite a meaty back story as a wayward prodigy. Rachel made sure to milk that angle every chance she got, dipping into her media contacts for article after article about Cosima’s struggles to be published. And barely a month after taking over as her agent, she got her an eye wear and a makeup deal, making sure to rub the endorsements on Ferdinand’s face - be it in the workplace or in her bedroom on nights when she’s up for some carnal amusement.

“I bet you can’t wait to wash your hands off Niehaus now,” Ferdinand said when she decided to leave the company and open her own agency – Rachel Duncan Sports Representation.

“I am taking her with me,” Rachel dryly proclaimed, “as a reminder of what you can only dream of doing – beautifully sell a defective product.” And so she did and by some lucky streak, the no-name player she got from a cretin of an agent started winning which gave Rachel more things to sell.

She was in the middle of closing Cosima’s biggest endorsement apart from her apparel deal when the news about what she said in her press conference reached her side of the Pacific. “This will go public,” she coldly threatened the luxury watch executives who suddenly went lukewarm after Cosima’s admission. “I can tell you for certain that it will not look good for you – boycotts, petitions, backlashes – it will be a public relations nightmare, at the very least,” she said. “It will be in your best interest if you follow in the footsteps of her other endorsers,” and she handed them a pen which they took and used with obvious hesitation. It was a calculated bluff because apart from Cosima’s racquet sponsor and a pair of smaller ventures, all her other sponsors are taking a wait-and-see approach. 

“Miss Duncan,” Martin says to her ear, “I’ve just received word from the front desk that Miss Niehaus just arrived. Should I ask her to meet you at your suite?”

“Yes,” Rachel answers as she stands up and leaves the hotel bar for her suite. As soon as she got in, she opened a small bottle of scotch, wanting nothing more but to wash away the remnants of the offensive martini. There was a formal knock on the door as she was in the middle of pouring her drink.

“Leave us please,” she says to Martin as Cosima angrily storms into the suite.

“First of all,” Rachel says before taking a sip of her scotch, “congratulations on your win today. It was a masterful display of tennis.”

“Cut the shit,” Cosima sneers as she paces the sprawling suite, “you have no fucking right to do that.”

“To bring your parents over and watch their only child - their pride and joy - play and win the quarterfinals of a grand slam?” Rachel asks with a sardonic smile. “I wasn’t aware that it was such a cruelty -”

“You know that isn’t what it is,” and Cosima angrily pulls out a chair from the adjacent dining area, “you used them!”

Rachel turns her back on Cosima to look out to the Yarra River from one of the suite’s floor-to-ceiling windows. “Yes I did, but you are seeing this from a place of anger,” she quips. “Miss Court will not stop attacking you – in interviews, in letters to newspapers, in her sermons. Think of how it would make her look when she says you’re a degenerate while your mother is here.” Her words were met with silence which pushed her to continue. “You forget that we are in the business of optics and impressions. This is not personal,” and she finishes the scotch in her glass.

Cosima walks towards her and lets out a breath. “This is the last time you’re going to pull something like this,” she says, “the next time you meddle in my life behind my back we’re done...”

“That is not wise,” Rachel calmly responds, “especially once your relationship with Miss Cormier goes public.” She turns to look to where her client is standing before looking out the window again. “And when it does, you are going to need me – regardless of what you think of me.” It has been a month since Rachel was made aware of Cosima and Delphine Cormier’s relationship – when Martin showed her a fresh Tumblr post of the two of them in Toronto holding hands. She had it taken down before it got shared, unsure of what to do with it at that time.

“Don’t go near my personal life without my consent,” she warns Rachel, “because if you do, I have enough dirt on you to ruin your career... to make all your clients scamper away to the nearest available agent.”

Rachel scoffs as she walks to open a drawer. “You have to wear this after any match from now on,” she says as she takes out a dark blue box housing an elegant watch to give to Cosima. “The watch deal you signed off on just went through...You can thank me later.” 

“Just so we’re clear,” Cosima says with contempt as she eyes the timepiece’s sweeping hands and walks towards the door with it, “I don’t want to see you in any of my matches.”

“Fair enough,” Rachel says, her all-business tone masking the first faint signs of worry. In all her planning, she didn’t factor in the effect of her machinations in the outcome of Cosima’s tournament. All these would be for naught if she ends up losing in the semifinals – she wouldn’t have the leverage she needs to urge all of Cosima’s sponsors to back her up after publicly coming out.

“You really have to do all this bullshit before the semifinals, didn’t you?” Cosima sarcastically remarks while Rachel opens another mini bottle of scotch. The angry thud of a slammed door startled her enough for the auburn liquid to slosh not in her glass but on her Wimbledon ensemble. She could only curse underneath her breath at the fate of her pristine, expensive suit that deserved so much better than being blemished by a stubborn stain.

\-----

**Semifinals**

The last time Sally Niehaus watched her daughter play a tennis match live was almost 10 years ago – on the clay courts of Roland Garros when she went up against a more experienced junior player and still managed to win the girls’ championship. There were two things about that day that she will never forget: the smile on Cosima’s face – the tip of her teenage daughter’s tongue peeking in between her teeth - a smile of pure joy at winning a title; and how cold and sweaty her palms were during and after the match, which gave Gene something to continuously joke about during their celebratory Parisian dinner.

Watching her daughter on TV pretty much has the same effect - with the addition of the anxiety that seems to lurk behind her in the hours leading to the match. She couldn’t stand sitting by the television to watch Cosima play, resorting to sneaking out from wherever she and Gene are watching to discretely smoke a stick of cigarette or two. It always calmed her nerves but it also made her head feel fuzzy so she avoided watching every match, only choosing to tune in when it’s really pivotal.

“How many do you go through when you watch her play?” Delphine had asked her innocently the night before they left Berkeley – when she caught her sneaking a smoke while Cosima and Gene went out to buy some wine.

“At least eight,” Sally said as she accepted Delphine’s offer of a contraband cigarette stick. “If it’s a tight three-setter, close to a pack,” and she lit it with Delphine’s lighter, smiling on the inside when she noticed its Golden Gate Bridge engraving.

“And in the U.S. Open semis?” Her daughter’s girlfriend followed-up.

“I had to buy another pack during the break between sets,” Sally confessed as she ticks the ash away.

“Does Cosima or Gene know about this?” An amused Delphine inquired after confiding in her that she didn’t know how many she smoked in the aftermath of that match when she got plastered with Sarah and Felix in their hotel room.

“Gene – yes, but Cosima doesn’t know,” Sally said as she blew out a puff of smoke, “so this is our little secret,” and they smiled in silent agreement. It wasn’t hard for Sally to like Delphine, especially when she first saw how she and Cosima look at each other. And after sharing four cigarettes before her husband and daughter pulled into their driveway, Sally realized that she liked her even more than she did the day before. 

In some selfish, childish way, Sally could only wish for Delphine to be here now in Melbourne so she wouldn’t be anxiously smoking alone on a grassy knoll by the Yarra River while waiting for Cosima’s semifinal match to start. The walk to here from the Rod Laver Arena is quite tiresome and some company would have been welcome as she walks back to take her seat in the stadium. As she sucks on her cigarette, Sally couldn’t help but remember Gene’s incessant talking about today’s match, making her aware just how tricky it is even if she makes it a point to not religiously follow Cosima’s matches.

“Aga Radwanska always matches up well with her,” he started saying over dinner in a Chinatown restaurant last night which turned into a long monologue about court geometry and finesse. “She always seems to have Cosima’s number,” Gene worriedly remarked and he expounded on it as they walked back to their hotel.

She begins walking back to the arena as she smokes what remains of her short cigarette stick. Maybe she’ll try nicotine patches next time Cosima needs them for support. They were already planning to go to Melbourne as soon as Gene saw Cosima’s press conference and more than the trophies and the prize money, seeing and hearing their daughter take a stand for what is right made Sally proud. The fact that she’s getting criticisms for simply being herself angered her, pushing her protective instincts to kick in to high gear. But Sally knew that Cosima can handle it – they raised her to be able to handle it after all - so she had to keep herself in check whenever she reads the news or hear about what Margaret Court has to say about her daughter.

The match had already started by the time she got back to the arena after going through another security check. Just thinking about what Cosima had gone through just to get to this point was enough to reignite her urge for another cigarette. Her daughter survived an injury scare in her first round – something she saw on her phone which shook her, and an epic third round clash that one of her students excitedly told her about before class the next day. This is the first time that Cosima is in the last four of the Australian Open and she’s facing someone who has constantly beaten her and who, according to Gene, also happens to be a Wimbledon finalist.

A break in the first set action finally allowed her to go to her seat in the player’s box. She looked at the stadium scoreboard as she comes down the stairs – Cosima is up 4 games to none.

“How long was I gone?” She asks Gene who is drinking a cup of coffee.

“Less than 20 minutes,” he answers with a smile. “She’s on a tear.”

Sally exhales a shaky breath. “I told you they didn’t need your help,” she adds pointing to Sarah and Felix who tensely nodded at her when they realized she was back from her “bathroom” break. She watches as she fidgets in her seat at how well Cosima is defending all over the court, returning every lob, volley, and baseline shot that comes her way. When the scoreboard ticked 5-0 in favor of her daughter, she exchanges a hopeful look with Gene. Maybe they’re in for a shorter match after all and all her incognito smoking will turn out to be unnecessary.

The hopeful looks were replaced with looks of concern as their daughter’s 5-game lead got trimmed to 2 games, with Cosima getting broken on serve twice. “Stop thinking about it, stop thinking about it,” Sally hears Gene seemingly pleading for their daughter to finish what she started. A clenched fist and a determined look from Cosima came their way when she was able to break Radwanska to take the first set at 6-3.

“One more to go,” Sally breathes out as she takes her husband’s mug of coffee. The caffeine would have to do for now – she doesn’t want to miss any more of Cosima’s match just because she needed a nicotine fix to fight the jitters.

“It’s when you’re ahead that you’re most vulnerable,” Gene absently quips as he rubs his forehead.

“Why are you saying that?” Sally says a bit louder than usual which made Felix turn to curiously look at them.

“I’m just saying,” Gene says after giving Cosima’s trainer a smile which instantly made him go back to mixing something in a tumbler, “you still have time to go to the bathroom.”

She weighed her options for a bit before the match decided for her when the action resumed. She thought she made the right choice of foregoing a cigarette break when Cosima carried her momentum from the first set with a 3-1 lead on the second, only for Radwanska to strike back and square the ledger at 4-all.

“She’s trying to go behind her,” Gene says trying to explain a point lost by Cosima when her opponent drew her to the net which enabled her to hit a crosscourt shot. Their misdirected daughter could only look as the ball kisses the line on the open court.

“I can see that!” Sally replies, her patience running thin not because her husband is mansplaining but because she has no other way to release the tension apart from picking on him. This time, it was Sarah who turned to look at their direction and Sally managed to give her a forced smile which made their daughter’s coach to focus her attention back to the match.

“Hate to say I told you so,” Gene nips right back when Cosima lets out a loose backhand that yielded a break point for her opponent. Less than a minute later, Gene’s words about vulnerabilities seem to have come true as Cosima goes down 4-5 with Aga serving for the second set. And couple of minutes later, things have leveled at one set apiece.

While Sally can accept that her daughter lost that set fair and square at 5-7, she couldn’t stop herself from cursing when she saw Margaret Court from the VIP box, standing and applauding when Cosima lost her advantage.

“I can kill that woman,” she sneers.

“When?” Felix enthusiastically asks, an elbow resting on the back of Sarah’s seat as he turned to face her. “She’s ancient and we can make it look like an accident. You’re a biochemist, right? So you be the brains and I be the brawn. I’ll bring the shovel,” he adds as Sarah swats his elbow away with a grin.

“Let Cosima handle it,” Gene reasons. “Let her game do the talking. Now Hon, you can still go out to -”

“I’m staying right here,” Sally interrupts as Cosima jogs back to her side of the court. “I want to see the look on that woman’s face when Cosima wins this match.”

“That’s the spirit,” Gene says sneaking a kiss on his wife’s cheek, “Go Cosima!!!”

The third set proved to be a monumental contest with both players determined to not give an inch of an advantage to the other, making sure to hold during their service games and trying their level best to outwit each other during returns. As the match goes on, Sally begins to notice how different her daughter plays now. This New Cosima has a more obvious and confident level of aggression in her strokes and in her movements, puts an extra crackle in her serves, and converts the usually destructive fire in her belly into a viable source of focus and second wind.

As she watches her daughter go up 0-40 in a game that would put her ahead at 5-3 if she manages to break her opponent, Sally couldn’t help but feel that this is New Cosima’s match to win or lose. “Just return her second serve,” Gene says when Radwanska threatens to erase her deficit at 30-40, and after returning a second serve right next to her opponent’s feet, she gets the break after a shanked pass that goes out.

But come winning time, the shades of Old Cosima began to materialize on court: the sarcastic smirk directed at Sarah when she missed a forehand even if she almost had a country road to hit in to the court; berating herself when she made a soft short return that got pulverized; and repeatedly smacking her thigh with her palm when she lost the chance to win the match after a 26-shot rally that ended when Aga hit a short but unreturnable crosscourt shot.

And in only a span of a quick cigarette break, Cosima’s lead disappeared as Radwanska takes control of the match - serving for the win and a spot in the finals at 6-5. Sally could only bow her head when the two-hour mark ushered in two match points for her daughter’s Polish opponent.

“Just make her hit one more ball, kid. One more ball,” Gene mumbles. It’s a thing she has heard him say to Cosima when she was still a junior and she’s not sure now if a basic tactic from years ago will enable her to extend this match. She reaches out to hold his hand instead of asking him about it, surprised at how cold and sweaty his palm is and finding comfort in the fact that she’s not alone in the anxiety and nervousness.

Whether the “one more ball” mantra was also on Cosima’s mind, Sally will never know. And when Radwanska hit a ball wide after Cosima made her run from side to side, she manages to give them a wry smile that says “_I just got lucky there._” But come the next point, Sally can see the New Cosima emerge again – the Cosima that is not going down without putting up a fight as she bravely returns a crosscourt shot with a backhand that can only be returned via a looper. Cosima then lunges towards the net and swats the ball for a winner. Two match points erased.

It seems statistically impossible for anybody to make three straight points given how tense and tight the match is. But Cosima did just that, proving to her and to everybody watching that fortune favors the brave. She breaks back and the score is now at 6 games all in the deciding set. The roller coaster continues with both girls in their corners, looking all sorts of tired and broken, but still determined to leave it all out in the court to get the win.

Something’s got to give, Sally thinks as Cosima and Aga managed to hold their serves. And by the 16th game of the third set with Aga serving, Cosima found herself at 30-all. “Come on, kid,” she says, “you can do it,” and for the first time since forever, she removes the hand covering her mouth to mask her jittery whimpers. She couldn’t help but stand and clap with Sarah, Felix, and Gene when Cosima got herself a match point after a series of tremendous hitting that resulted to an error from her opponent.

As Cosima makes her way to her receiving position, she takes one lingering look at her box. And maybe Sally is imagining things, but she thinks she sees the faintest of smiles from her daughter’s lips – the same kind of smile she gives after telling her _I love you, Mom._ She returns the serve and Aga had to hit a squat-shot to bring it back to Cosima’s side of the court.

“OUT!” A linesman calls and with eyes wide in disbelief, Cosima looks at them and raises both hands in victory. The disbelief of winning the third set at 9-7 was soon replaced with a toothy smile as the stadium roars with applause and chants. Cosima looked up to the sky before marching towards the net where her opponent gives her a firm handshake in between kisses on both cheeks.

As Sally watches the adoration her daughter is deservedly getting from the audience, she caught sight of the VIP box where almost everybody is standing and applauding. She couldn’t help but smirk when the camera zoomed in on the lone woman who refuses to stand or clap. Gene was right all along – by letting her game do the talking this afternoon, Cosima got the last laugh for now.

“Now where is that shovel you were talking about?” Sally says to Felix who joins her in laughter when he sees the scowl on the disapproving old woman’s face on the big screen.

\-----

_“Une petite victoire for today, mon Amour?”_ Cosima remembered Delphine asking her that question for the first time while she was getting her post-match treatment from Felix after the fourth round. Even if she was tired and her feet felt like it had been baked on scalding concrete for days, she immediately replied.

“_Small victory?!?_” Cosima sent, thankful for her basic knowledge of the French language. And a minute later, a longer message with an explanation chimed in.

_“Something small about your day that made you smile, feel a bit better. A small victory. I’ll start - Today while I drove home from work, the radio played a song that made me think of you. Of how much I wish I could be there with you.”_ And along with the message came a link she immediately clicked after Felix lent her the earphones in his pocket. Cosima listened to the song, imagined it playing over the airwaves of a city 10,000 miles away while her girlfriend drives on the highway, unwisely smoking a cigarette even if it’s too cold to put her windows down.

By the time the song ended, she was already trying to fight the urge to book the next available flight to Toronto and show up on Delphine’s doorstep. But in the middle of the second loop of the song, she came up with a small victory and began to type.

“_Today, I think it’s the support I got after...you know. I’ve been out since college and I think everybody in tennis knows it, but it was different when I had to say it officially, publicly...when I had to say it to stand up for myself. So yeah, I think that’s mine for today. :) _”

After publicly saying her piece and re-affirming her truth, she expected the messages of support from her parents and non-tennis friends, as well as the deluge of emails from Rachel and her lackeys. But as she read notification after notification on Twitter and private texts from fellow players, Cosima felt for the first time in her tennis career that she wasn’t so alone. The show of support in private was something unexpected and something she didn’t ask for. The public statements of support from some of the retired greats were just the icing on the coming out cake.

“_Ce n'est pas une petite victoire, ma chérie ;),_” Delphine’s reply said. “_It’s a huge win. But you’re new at this so I’ll accept your answer for now. We’ll work on your small victories, don’t worry._”

One of Cosima’s pre-match routines is listening to the same three songs before coming to the court. The playlist hasn’t changed since senior year of college but she found it easy to slot in the song: Don’t Find Another Love by Tegan and Sara, into her life and routines. It was playing softly as she waited in the tunnels for her quarterfinals match with Dominika Cibulková.

“Hi,” she said, tapping Cosima on her shoulder.

“Oh, hey, Domi, what’s up?” And Cosima reluctantly removed her earphones.

“You’re brave,” and she extended her hand which Cosima took to shake. ““I’m not gay but even if I am, I couldn’t do what you did.” And with a nod and a smile, she re-wore her earphones to start from the very beginning of the new song.

They played the small victories game all throughout the remainder of the tournament, finding that it complemented the video calls and the letters they sent to each other. Cosima treasured every small victory that Delphine shared with her – knowing about the little snippets of Delphine’s day made her feel that she really is part of the blonde’s everyday life.

“_Today I told all my castmates about you, about us. And they can’t wait to meet you in Prague. Maybe I’m getting bad at this game like you,_” was the small victory message waiting for Cosima after winning the quarterfinals. The thought of reading Delphine’s accompanying email that would give context to that message was the one thing she was looking forward to as she headed to Rachel’s suite for what could only be deemed as an emergency meeting. And while she may have stormed out of the suite, Cosima can’t disregard that her agent did have a point. Pretty soon, she is going to have to eat shit and work with Rachel when her relationship goes public, for Delphine’s sake.

“_Albert saw me watching your match on my phone while we were wrapping up the last scene for the day,_” Delphine's email said. Cosima knew that among her girlfriend’s co-stars, she is closest with Wallis and Pete who she already met when Delphine invited them both for dinner. “_And then Albie began making comments about how great you’ve been playing and about how you have a shot at winning the championship. These of course made me smile. Pretty soon, the other guys joined in and Greg said that if you end up winning, you’ll be the most eligible lesbian in North America._” The thought of being an “eligible lesbian” anywhere made Cosima cringe in both firsthand and secondhand embarrassment.

“_So I had to clarify that that’s not going to happen because she’s with someone – that someone being me. And I was in a really good mood after your win so I took them out for a round of drinks. I told them all about us and now, we have to allot them a day or two when we’re in Prague this April. They’re excited to meet you – Albie especially because he likes tennis. Is this okay, mon Amour?_”Cosima smiled and began to reply. She had already met Suzanne, Delphine’s Maman, and even spent time with her without her daughter. Meeting the friends should be easy.

_“Today I saw how proud my Mom is of me,”_ Cosima typed as she tried to get some sleep after the semifinals and all the commitments that came with winning it_. “Don’t get me wrong, I know that she’s always been proud of what I’ve done with my life, but seeing it actually happen helped me focus – made me forget that I was on the brink of losing. I love you. Oh and good morning (you’re probably going to read this when you wake up).”_

Team Niehaus had never been in the position they were in after the semis – being one of the last two remaining in a grand slam tournament. As a newly-minted grand slam finalist, Cosima expected all kinds of nerves in the lead up to the finals. But as she made her way to the locker room to prepare, she was surprised that she’s actually feeling at peace. She belonged here - she’s good enough to belong here, she thought.

She arrived at the holding room where her finals opponent, Li Na, was already there talking to her coach and to her husband. Shortly, she saw Sarah with seven freshly-strung racquets and Felix stowing away her nutrition and hydration drinks in her bag.

“Whatever happens,” Sarah said before giving her a fist bump as she nodded.

“You left it all out there on the court all tournament long,” Felix added while he gave her a hug. “I’m so proud of you...whatever happens.”

They sent her out to the final Melbourne battle seemingly mirroring the same sense of calm.

“We know it’s hard”, a reporter asks Cosima almost three hours later, “to put into words how this tournament has been for you – with all the injuries, long matches, among other things. But can you tell us how you are now, what’s going through your mind after your first finals?”

Normally, a loss like that: a tight three-setter where she broke serve first in the deciding set, would have gutted her. The fact that she lost in the finals of a grand slam would have made the defeat unbearable. But to her surprise, the tranquility she felt in the hours before the match is still with her as she faces a sea of journalists all wanting to get an interesting soundbite about her runner-up finish.

“Losing is never easy,” Cosima began to answer, “it never gets easy no matter how long you’ve been playing or how many times you’ve been in this position,” she answers with a tight smile. “But one of the things I learned lately is that life is a series of small victories – of the little things in a day that made you feel a bit better, happy, no matter how fleeting that feeling was. So what’s on my mind right now are the little victories these past couple of weeks: fresh hotel linens, near-perfect backhands down-the-line, kink-free ankle taping, songs that remind you of more important things in life than tennis, home-cooked meals and Eskimo Pies waiting for me when I land home,” and at that last quip, she couldn’t help but smile.

“The scoreboard said I lost, but I still believe that I’ve won something here in Melbourne...That all these small victories are preparing me for something big. Losing always hurts and I’m hurting now - I cried in the locker room with my team, with my parents before heading here. But it’s fine. As you can see, I can still smile.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took a while to write, probably because everybody I root for lost in the recently concluded Australian Open (and all on the same day to boot, hahaha). Anyway, Li Na did win the actual 2014 Australian Open (on her third try - she lost her first two finals in Melbourne) and she gave one of the funniest championship speeches in recent memory (“Max, Agent, make me rich”) which you can watch here if you like - https://youtu.be/M-uVsj2pJDo
> 
> Big thanks again to everybody reading and leaving comments. Again, if there are too many tennis stuff in this chapter, feel free to ask away in the comments. A tip of the hat also goes to my friend Corsan for the help with the French and for the read through when this chapter was nothing but a jumbled, incomplete mess.


	18. A Welcome Breather

**After Melbourne: Three Months Before Prague**

“It’s hard to say goodbye to you,” Delphine remembered saying to Cosima on New Year’s Day when she dropped her off at the airport for her flight to Australia. She meant to keep it in, but the words just slipped out of her mouth in the middle of driving on Gardiner while Cosima was frantically searching her bag for her travel adapter.

“I don’t know if I’d ever get used to it,” Delphine added while she looked straight towards the road ahead, figuring that she might as well say the other part of her inner thought.

Cosima set aside her bag and interlocked her fingers around Delphine’s free hand resting on the gear shift. “It’s no cakewalk for me too...” She said with a melancholic smile, “I don’t think it will ever be,” and she placed a soft kiss on the top of Delphine’s hand and on her palm. “But just remember how awesome seeing each other again would be in, hopefully, late January.”

For most of their time apart, Delphine sentimentally clung to the promise of an awesome reunion whenever she remembered their New Year’s Day parting. She’s thankful for the long hours at work that kept her insulated from the loneliness for most of the day. But the feeling always crept back with interest on nights and early mornings where she found herself glued in front of the TV watching Cosima’s matches.

“Do you want some coffee, love?” Siobhan asks her softly now while they wait for Team Niehaus’ arrival from Melbourne.

“No, thank you,” Delphine answers, grateful for the company of Sarah and Felix’s mother not only now as they wait for Team Niehaus’ arrival, but also on that early morning when they watched the women’s final at Siobhan’s house. After the semis, a nerve-wracked Delphine called Siobhan to ask if they can watch the finals together. “I get too anxious on my own,” was the explanation she gave but Siobhan quickly made it clear that there wasn’t a need for one.

“We can have breakfast with Kira after,” the older woman nonchalantly suggested.

That night, Delphine drove to the house just off Greenwood after making a quick stop at her CityPlace flat for a shower. It had been weeks since she was last there but she didn’t have any trouble tracing her way back, after all Sarah and Siobhan’s house is easy to remember – it used to be a grocery and the old signage still hung by the entrance. By the time she got there, Siobhan already had tea brewing while the TV showed highlights of the semifinal matches, the volume on low so as not to wake a sleeping Kira. 

“Realistically, what are her chances?” Delphine asked in hushed tones to the woman who used to coach Sarah Manning.

“Realistically,” Siobhan said as she puts down her cup on a saucer, “Cosima’s running on fumes. I think she will be in trouble every minute this plays on because she spent more time on court. But I’d like to be proven wrong,” and she gripped one of Delphine’s worried shoulders before helping herself to another cup of tea.

When Cosima lost the first set via a tiebreak, Delphine was worried not only for her girlfriend but also for Sally who looked like she could use a long cigarette break. She was thankful that Siobhan allowed her to smoke indoors as the match went to a third set after Cosima won the second at 6-3. She was ahead by a break but at 4-2 with her opponent serving, it began to rain in Melbourne.

“Shite in a bucket,” Siobhan softly scoffed as the arena’s retractable roof closed which halted play. Delphine didn’t understand Siobhan’s reaction until play resumed and Cosima got broken on serve, the score at 4-4.

“She’s too tired, isn’t she?” She asked before taking a painfully long drag of her cigarette, both women resigned to Cosima’s inevitable fate as the score line ticked to 4-5, and finally to 4-6. Delphine could feel her heart breaking when the camera zoomed in on Cosima exhaling a tired breath as she quickly wiped away a couple of tears falling from her eyes.

“Thanks for keeping an eye on her,” Siobhan returns to the Arrivals bay with a cup of coffee as Delphine watches over Kira sleeping on a bench beside her. “She was up all night, so excited about today.”

“She and me both,” Delphine quips as Siobhan wakes up Sarah’s daughter. The Melbourne-Vancouver-Toronto flight they were waiting for landed after a 30-minute delay and while she’s nervous about how to act around Cosima after a loss, it is easily outweighed by the anticipation of simply being together again. As the first batch of passengers from the flight emerges with their bags, Delphine remembers what Siobhan told her only an hour ago when they began waiting.

“Cosima’s at a point where she has to believe that she’ll get back there...that place where she can contend for another slam,” she said when Delphine asked how she dealt with Sarah after a painful loss. “Just be there for her...Be patient.”

The accompanying stories of Siobhan’s advice: of how Sarah would lock herself in a room for days after losing close matches, made Delphine expect to welcome a brooding Cosima this late afternoon. But to her surprise, her girlfriend seems to be all smiles as she and her team ride an escalator to get to the baggage carousel. From where she’s standing, she can see Cosima tapping Felix on his shoulder telling him something as he nods. Her girlfriend then made a mad dash down the escalator towards the waiting area.

“COSIMA!” Delphine exclaims when she sees her girlfriend looking all around her for them.

“Hey! Hi!” Cosima says a few feet from where Delphine, Siobhan, and Kira are standing. She was in Delphine’s arms in the few seconds it took for her to run towards them.

“I missed you,” Cosima whispers lovingly, “so much.” And that was all it took for Delphine to let go of the fear that maybe Cosima would need her space by the time she gets here.

“Not as much as I missed you,” Delphine answers as she playfully tugs on one of her girlfriend’s locks.

Pretty soon, Siobhan and Kira joined in on the hug, with the young girl congratulating the brunette for her tournament. She then breaks away from them when she sees her Mum who easily carries her on her arms. Delphine and Cosima are gazing at each other, making sure to keep some distance because they’re in public as Siobhan welcomes her children with a hug.

“Come on, let’s go home,” Sarah says as Felix takes over pushing the baggage trolley.

“Wait, we forgot a bag,” he exclaims while counting their luggage, making Delphine and Cosima stop from walking out of the airport.

“You go on ahead, love,” Siobhan says to Delphine, “we’ll just bring them to you,” explaining to Felix that she and Delphine are parked right across each other. The duo follows Siobhan’s suggestion, barely noticing a group of nervous and giddy bystanders who has already congregated on the side.

“You’re Cosima Niehaus!” One woman excitedly proclaims and at those words, Delphine sidesteps out of the spotlight only for her to be yanked back in by another woman who is waving at her.

“Johanna from Totentanz! Can I have a photo?”

“Sure,” she says with a shy smile as the fan takes a selfie with her. A short way across her, she can see Cosima signing autographs and posing for photos with several people. After taking her photos, the fan proceeds to tell her how much she loves the show.

“My grandmother and I, we watch it then we binge-watch when it’s not on. It reminds her of her childhood – she’s Polish and she lived through the war,” and the fan proceeds to cry. “You have inspired me so much - to not take bullshit, to know what I’m worth. Can I hug you, Delphine?”

“Yes, of course.” Delphine prides herself in being as genuine as she can to fans of the show. She appreciates their thoughts about it and loves it when they share their viewpoints and opinions, be it in person or not. She’s not that active on social media, but on the rare times she’s on Twitter or Instagram, she always makes it a point to retweet fan art and like tagged posts.

As she hugs the fan, she sees Cosima looking right at her with an expression that – if Delphine is being honest – seems to convey unease, perhaps even a hint of jealousy. She lets go first, rubbed the fan’s arms and said her thanks before following Cosima out of the airport.

“Ma chérie,” she says as she catches up with her. “We’re going this way,” pointing to the direction of the parking complex where the car is located. “You okay?” She asks Cosima who has traded a look of indifference for a pout.

“Yeah, yeah,” Cosima says complete with flailing arms, “I guess I’m just tired and I just want to go home,” the pout goes away when Delphine reaches out to take her hand, a gesture that elicited a small smile.

As they walk on, Delphine made it a point to make Cosima smile by initiating small touches whenever possible. The brushes of Delphine’s fingers as she helps Cosima wear a thick coat were rewarded with Cosima tucking loose blonde curls behind Delphine’s ears when she re-wore her gray beanie. And Delphine playfully pinching Cosima on the waist as she leads her to where she’s parked made the dreadlocked American giggle with the tickles.

The small touches successfully erased the unease on Cosima’s face, inadvertently stoking their weeks of pent-up longing. As soon as they got into the car, they instantly started devouring each other with hungry kisses and desperate groping.

“Fuck I really missed you,” Cosima manages to eke out before sucking on Delphine’s pulse point, her ministrations sure to leave marks, “I miss kissing you...I miss your scent...” And she proceeds to unbuckle Delphine’s belt and pop the button of her jeans.

“I want you now,” Delphine’s insides are all a flutter as she divests Cosima of the same coat that she helped put on, throwing it on the spacious backseat as she slides her hand inside Cosima’s sweater.

“OI, OI SHAGGERS!” Felix says while knocking on the windshield, temporarily halting the growing fire of their delicious reunion. “Keep it PG for a bit won’t you,” pointing to Kira as he walks to the car’s tailgate to load up the bags. “Your apartment is 30 minutes away from here - go home and spare us the live show.”

Caught red-handed, all they could do is laugh with Delphine muzzling Cosima’s neck to hide the aroused and embarrassed flush on her cheeks.

“Thank you, Fee,” Cosima sarcastically says, giving him a wave while he tries to stifle a laugh before closing the trunk.

“Come,” Delphine says after one more glorious kiss before starting the engine, “let’s go home.” She made sure to follow Felix’s instructions to a T over and over again as soon as the door to her apartment closes. 

\-----

**A Little Help from the Enemy: Two Months before Prague**

Cosima’s initiation to the upper echelons of women’s tennis started with a call-up to the U.S. Fed Cup Team. Historically, the team’s bench has always been deep - having Serena, Venus, and a slew of promising youngsters and doubles specialists that the USTA can choose to include in the prestigious group competition. She had always been viewed by the powers that be as a left field choice – someone who at best can be fielded in as a serviceable alternate. She had never been picked to represent her country internationally, either because she didn’t have the ranking to warrant such inclusion or because there are others who were deemed a better fit.

But a USTA representative immediately sent word after her runner-up finish in Melbourne, asking her if she’d be willing to be part of the team competing in the Fed Cup Quarterfinals against the Czech Republic. Cosima, a proud product of San Francisco, immediately said yes - the need to cut her reunion with her girlfriend short being the only downside to her decision.

With the Fed Cup beginning in Cleveland right before her next hardcourt tournaments in Doha and Dubai, Cosima made sure that the 10 days in between arriving in Toronto and heading off to play more tennis had been filled with memories of her girlfriend. “I’ll be back soon,” she told Delphine the night before she left while she held her in her arms, “and before you know it, we’ll be in Prague.” They both tried to be strong as they drove to the airport, with Cosima wondering if saying goodbye to the blonde would ever get easy. “_It’ll always be hard,_” she thought as they share one more kiss before they get her bags from the car trunk.

“_I never want it to be easy,_” she silently told herself while taking a longing glance at Delphine’s car driving away from her before she entered the airport. If only she can say the same thing whenever a fan gives her girlfriend a lingering hug and a look that screams ‘_I’m picturing you naked_’ or _‘I’m imagining you’re my girlfriend and we’re adopting kittens together’_. She chose to stop thinking which longing stare Delphine gets from fans is the worst, dropping the thought as she boarded her flight.

A tradition that is unique to Fed Cup is the welcome dinner on the eve of the tie where both the home and visiting team can mingle and catch a breather before the action starts. Sitting next to a bunch of Czech players as federation and tennis officials take to the stage, Cosima took the opportunity to know more about the city she will visit with Delphine two short months from now.

“Hey Lucie,” she says to her seatmate who looks equally bored listening to the long-ass speech of an ITF exec who kinda looks like Rasputin only with shorter hair, “you live in Prague, right?”

“Not really,” Lucie is mildly confused but is still smiling at the random question, “I go there but I live somewhere two hours away. Why?”

“I’ll be there around early April,” Cosima supplies with a smile, “and I was wondering if you have insider tips for me, you know - what to do, where to go.”

Cosima can see Lucie trying to figure out if there is a tournament in Prague around that time. “Well, there are lots of things to do – you can go to Old Town Square, walk on Charles Bridge, visit a castle, drink nice coffee in a lot of cafes,” Lucie politely says. “But why Prague? I mean, there are no tournaments there apart from Fed Cup semis when we win – and even that would be in Ostrava, not Prague,” she jokes.

“If you win,” and Cosima calculates her words before answering Lucie, “it’ll be a tennis and a personal trip. I’m doing my pre-season clay training there,” she supplies.

“Training in Prague?” Another Czech player, Barbora Strýcová, chimes in from across the table. “There is a tennis center with traditional clay courts - not just crap sand on hardcourt. I know someone there, I give Sarah details later...”

Cosima was in the middle of saying “Thanks, Barbs,” when she cut her off.

“But I’m more interested with this personal Prague trip of yours,” Barbs says with an easy chuckle, “I mean there are many European cities to have holidays. Why Prague? Even I don’t go to Prague and I’m Czech,” she adds, making Cosima remember that Barbs is based in Dubai. Among everybody in the Czech team, Cosima is friendliest with her partly because she is one of the few other tennis players that Sarah was friends with back in her playing days. Cosima’s sure that if she’s evasive, Barbs will just ask Sarah and she will impishly tease her about it come the next tournament.

So she chose to be more open instead. “The person I’m seeing has work in Prague around that time. So we’re meeting there.”

“Oooh,” Barbs and Lucie react, getting the attention of the entire table before apologizing for their sudden outburst. “Is this someone popular in Czechia? Like an actress or a singer?” Lucie asks enthusiastically.

“Or maybe it’s a writer or like a director?” Barbs adds as she stands up to take a seat near Cosima. “You know I have a friend, you will like her,” she whispers to Cosima as if it’s a juicy piece of gossip. “She used to play tennis, she’s very nice. She’s a photographer now and -”

“Dude, I’m seeing someone exclusively,” Cosima says with an uncomfortable laugh. Maybe she should have kept her mouth shut.

“Well,” Barbs says with a shrug, “don’t go to any of the places Lucie said – they’re full of tourists. Clubs, go to clubs, no one will recognize you. Cross Club was my favorite when I -”

“Cosima is seeing someone exclusively,” another Czech player – Petra Kvitova, intervenes to provide reason to their conversation, “that means it’s serious, yes?”And Cosima nods while Petra began to speak to Barbs in Czech. “I just told her,” Petra says a few minutes later to politely fill her in, “that you’re trying to ask us where to take someone on like a romantic holiday, somewhere private. Yes?” 

“Yes, thank you,” Cosima answers Petra, “and that’s why she’s my favorite Czech,” making Barbs laugh.

“I think I know something that you will like,” Petra says, “I’ll message you about it.”

With the niceties out of the way, the competition begins. The U.S. may be the most successful national team in Fed Cup history with 18 titles, but the last time they won or even placed second was more than 10 years ago. The Czech Fed Cup Team has been lording the competition in recent years, annually fielding in teams that are neck-deep in big-serving, hard-hitting lefties who also happen to be not too shabby as doubles players.

Cosima knows in theory that it’s different when you’re playing for your country yet she’s still caught off-guard by the nerves she felt in her Fed Cup debut. She has always had trouble with lefties ever since she had her ass handed to her by Helena in her first ever tennis match as a child. On top of all that, there are expectations on her shoulders now – expectations that make her a bit hesitant about shot selections and strategies.

And when match time came, even the slightest of hesitations resulted to her balls flying long or to her elbow dropping during serves.

“Shut your mind off,” she remembered Sarah saying over the phone after she lost her first Fed Cup singles tie against Lucie. “Shut your mind off, but don’t play stupid.” Those words echo in her mind as she manages to redeem herself in her second Fed Cup tie, beating Petra after a tight first set and an easier second set. Cosima finally lets out a sigh of relief – she needed that win to make herself believe that Melbourne was not just a flash in the pan.

“You’re still going to give me those Prague details, right?” Cosima says to her as they exchange cheek kisses over the net.

“For sure,” she says with a small but genuine smile in spite of the defeat. “I think you and your partner will love it,” and Petra went on to shake hands with the U.S. Fed Cup Team Captain, Mary Joe Fernandez, who then went on to hug Cosima. 

Even when the score was at an even 2-2 with both teams notching equal number of singles wins, the U.S. Team went on to lose the live doubles rubber - the consequence of having only one doubles specialist in the team. In spite of the loss, it was still a good debut for Cosima and she made sure to tell Delphine just that during her video call. Unbeknownst to her girlfriend, by the side of her laptop Cosima has already began planning their stay in Prague thanks to the inputs and resources from Petra who, true to her word, sent her a detailed list of romantic and private things to do in the City of a Hundred Spires.

\-----

**Playing Nice – Prague**

“Tell me, what you’re up to,” Delphine asks in the middle of a veggie pasta dinner as Cosima noisily slurps a spaghetti noodle. It’s a question she has thrown the brunette’s way ever since she, Sarah, and Felix arrived in Prague after the end of the first hardcourt season of the year. And every time she asks it, Cosima either gives her a smile pregnant with meaning, or kisses her way out of answering it. Both have proven to be effective – the cheeky brat has successfully evaded the question for a week now.

But in their first night alone in Prague with Sarah and Felix out to hit the bars and clubs recommended by another Czech tennis player, Delphine can finally use the tricks up her sleeves to make her girlfriend sing like a canary.

“Babe I’m not telling you,” she answers with that cocky smile again. “You’ll know tomorrow anyway, just be patient.”

“In that case...” and Delphine saunters away from the dining table to go to the fridge, “no dessert for you.” She comes back with a bar of Eskimo Pie, unwrapping it slowly before taking a delectable bite. “I had an A.D. bring a couple of boxes from the U.S.” 

“That’s fine,” Cosima retorts after twirling her fork full of pasta, “Felix will kill me in my sleep if I don’t stick to his nutrition plan.”

“Tsk, tsk, ma chérie,” Delphine coos, “this is not the dessert I’m referring to,” and she licks the tip of her fingers where a small pool of vanilla ice cream trickled from the stick.

Cosima could only groan while masticating pasta and squash, “you’re evil,” and she swallows her food and takes a sip of her water. “I plan the perfect getaway for us and your friends for months; cashed in favors and forked up the dough to make it happen...And this is the thanks I get.” Delphine laughs as a couple of pasta strands and a chunk of eggplant flew from Cosima’s fork as she gesticulated wildly while delivering her lament.

“And to top it all off,” _she isn’t done yet_, Delphine thinks much to her amusement, “you’re laughing at my misery,” and Cosima stands up from the table to bring the dirty plates to the sink. “I flew thousands of miles to get here,” the faucet runs and Cosima starts washing dishes, “missing you and aching for you every day we’re not together and this is the -”

“Cosima...”

Delphine could only wish that she had a camera or that her phone is not plugged so she could take a picture of Cosima’s expression when she turned around to face her.

“While you were busy with your cute little tirade,” Delphine says, sitting on one of the dining chairs while hugging her knees to her chest, “I took the liberty of taking off my clothes.”

“Ahhh...” Like a moth to a very hot flame, all Cosima can do is come closer.

“So...” and Delphine removes the simple red band holding her hair in a ponytail, careful to not give her speechless girlfriend an inadvertent peek, “What are you up to, mon Amour?”

Cosima takes off her sweatshirt and pants as she closes the gap between them. “We’re going on a mini-week cruise on the Vltava River,” she says, shimmying out of her underwear. “We leave tomorrow afternoon and come back on Friday,” and she haplessly removes the sports bra she’s wearing. “We’re going to Lake Slapy on a well-stocked yacht...”

“See, that wasn’t so difficult. Now come here,” and Delphine pulls a pliant Cosima who immediately straddles her while they kiss.

Hours later, an intoxicated Sarah almost stumbles on a pile of clothes scattered on the floor. She held on to the arm of an equally inebriated Felix - who is frowning at the sight of a half-eaten plate of pasta that has mixed with melted chocolate and vanilla.

“At least we missed the live show,” he says to his sister and they drunkenly guffaw while making their way to their room to sleep off the buzz. 

\-----

Petra really came through for her with the contacts she shared, Cosima thinks now as she kicks back on one of the comfy lounge chairs in the upper deck. The idea of seeing Prague and nearby places via the Vltava River aboard a private yacht is something Cosima would probably think of but would not be able to pull off on her own. “_I know a couple of people who can help,_” Petra said in her message, along with a couple of phone numbers. “_Tell them I gave you their numbers._” And it was that simple – all Cosima needed to do was block out the dates, say how many people would be on board, and be at the yacht club by 10 a.m.

That and of course trying to keep it under wraps. It would have been a nice surprise, if only her girlfriend isn’t so irresistibly sexy.

“You have to give me something meaty here - like who hates who, who’s rude to the locker room staff, that sort of thing...” Cosima can only chuckle at Albert’s incessant prodding about what goes on behind the scenes of a tennis tournament. It’s nothing interesting, Cosima thinks but she can see the appeal of such insights for somebody who likes watching tennis. He’s been at it from their first dinner together somewhere in Zrabaslav up to now where they have docked somewhere in Lake Slapy enjoying a grilled lunch before taking a dip.

“Give Cosima a break,” Pete says before taking a sip of his white wine with a smile for Cosima that conveys ‘_I got your back’_.

While she has gotten to like all of Delphine’s castmates in the days of sailing the Vltava, quiet and introspective Pete is Cosima’s clear favorite. Last night as she was getting some water, she saw him on the aft deck with a book that she enjoyed reading in one of her many long plane rides. They got to talking – first about the book, then about the perks and loneliness of their chosen careers, then about their families, before it spilled over to talks about Delphine.

“I have never seen her like this with the others before you,” he said as he took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“She’s all in with you, you know? The guy she used to date -”

“Martial?”

“Yeah, they could go for weeks without actually talking. She’d be filming, he’d be away. She didn’t seem to care – even when it was new. She said something along the lines of she’s not good with relationships. I never bought it. But with you, she’s living through every single one of your matches. It’s a nice feeling I think...”

“What? What’s nice?”

“She seems to have found her equal. When you’re together, she’s just her – not hot actress Delphine Cormier who can charm the pants off anybody. Just Delphine – a little bit squidgy and goofy; somewhat lost and unsure about what she wants in her career; corny and romantic. Happy.” 

“It goes both ways,” Cosima said before she left Pete to return to her and Delphine’s room, the blonde wondering where she went off to for almost two hours.

“You’re barking up the wrong tree, mate,” Felix says to Albert, yanking Cosima away from her thoughts. “This one here is a girl scout...”

“What happens in the locker room stays in the locker room,” Cosima adds, her eyes searching for Delphine who went back to their room to change into her swimsuit.

“You should be asking us,” Felix says. “We have looser morals -”

“And technically we’re not part of the locker room,” Sarah adds before taking a healthy swig at her beer. “So say a name and we’ll dish -”

“So you would finally stop pestering us about it,” Felix snaps.

“Okay, okay,” Albert takes the bait, “Serena Williams.”

“Hell of a competitor,” Cosima says, “probably the best of our generation, of any generation.”

Felix gives Albert an ‘_I told you so look’_ before speaking. “Yeah that and I think she doesn’t know more than half of the people she shares a locker room with.”

Sarah smirks. “She only knows the names of the girls who’ve defeated her – so she can pronounce their names right when she steamrolls them the next time. Talk about vengeful.”

“Did she get your name right in the press conference when she whooped your ass in New York after that Wimbledon win?” Felix ribs his sister and Cosima laughs. As an incentive for winning the Wimbledon Girls’ title in 2004, Sarah was awarded a wildcard to the main draw of next year’s tournament. She met Serena in the third round and scored an upset in straight sets.

“Yeah, she did,” and Sarah throws a large fish bone to her brother.

“Eugenie Bouchard,” is the name Albert says next which made Felix raise an eyebrow. “She walks in the locker room like she’s the new Maria Sharapova...”

“At least Serena takes the time to know someone’s name,” Sarah adds, “that girl only refers to other players as, well, _‘that girl’_ or _‘the opponent’_...And she doesn’t shake hands because she doesn’t want to create the impression that she’s in this to make friends. Nobody is, but come on, a little respect? God, I hate her coach,” and Cosima nods at that. She worked with Eugenie’s coach on a trial basis before hiring Sarah and it wasn’t a good fit – his style just did not sit well with her.

“But she’s doing quite well,” Albert retorts, “beating all these players – Ivanovic at Australia...”

“She takes the ball early,” Sarah has put her tennis coach cap back on, “which will throw you off at first. But that’s it. I think she’s a bit of a one-trick pony...Needs to add variety to her game or she’ll be one nasty defeat away from being mapped out. Now if only her coach will take his head off his ass and actually work on that...”

“What happens when you’re mapped out?” Wallis, who’s manning the grill curiously asks, using the tongs to envelope _mapped out_ in air quotes.

“Dude it’s a bad thing,” Cosima answers. “It’s like giving everybody the combination for your personal safe where all your nasty secrets are hidden.”

“When you’re mapped out,” Sarah expounds, “any tennis coach can create a personalized strategy for their player to defeat you. You could become everybody’s pigeon overnight.”

“Maria Sharapova,” another voice comes from the lounge chair across Cosima.

“I thought you were sleeping off the hangover?” Albert says to Greg, their youngest castmate. “Ever since I showed him a photo of Sharapova, he’s had the biggest crush on her,” he says to Felix.

Sarah and Cosima exchange knowing looks. Having played against her as juniors players, both women have their share of things to tell. “She’s consistent,” Sarah says with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Yeah, totally,” Cosima adds, knowing well what Sarah meant.

Albert wags his finger. “Oh no, you’re not going to get away with just that. You’ve roasted the others, spill on Maria. Those bathroom breaks, are those really bathroom breaks?”

“She’s consistent,” Cosima says, “who she was then when we played as kids - that’s still her now. She didn’t talk to anybody before and she still doesn’t talk to anybody now except for the guys in her team. I don’t mind really, different strokes for different folks.”

“Cos, tell them about Orange Bowl,” Sarah eggs her but she only shakes her head. “Fine, I’ll tell,” and Greg and Albert listen to Sarah in rapt attention. “It was in Florida, an Under-16 big deal juniors’ tournament –the Orange Bowl. She was assigned to our room before she was transferred to Cos’ room. Now the tournament person told us that Maria doesn’t know a lot of English, so we shouldn’t expect her to talk to us. But the thing was, we had a Ukrainian roommate who speaks Russian.”

“And she didn’t talk to her too?” Albert says with a laugh.

“Nope, not a peep...So we started talking about her in English, you know girl talk. She doesn’t understand anyway. Next thing we knew, she was pissed and packing her bags while we were getting told off by the tournament person about being mean to her. Even then she gets what she wants...”

“You’re just saying that because you never won against her,” Felix jokes and Sarah snorts.

“And that’s how she became Cosima’s roommate?” Greg asks.

“Yup, and she was silent there too even if Kleybs was talking to her in Russian. So yeah, consistent...” and Sarah opens another bottle of beer.

By this time, Cosima has already zoned out of the conversation, her attention captured by a message from her girlfriend, “_Meet me at the swim platform ;)_” it said. And she walks away as Albert utters another name which made Felix clap in amusement.

Cosima hurriedly, but carefully, goes down the stairs to get to the rear of the yacht. She was halfway down the last flight of mini-stairs when she sees her, sitting on the edge of the platform wearing a simple white bikini, the constellation of beauty marks in full display.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Cosima says softly when she finally remembered how to breathe, prompting Delphine to turn around before tapping the space next to her, inviting her to sit. She removes her sarong and places it on the table, enjoying seeing Delphine staring at her body that’s only covered by a vibrant black tankini.

“It’s so peaceful here, so quiet,” Delphine says as she leans her head on Cosima’s shoulder and laces her arm around her arm. “Thank you.”

“Hey, I just planned it,” and Cosima kisses the top of Delphine’s head, “you guys chipped in.” She would have gladly shouldered all the expenses for the entire trip, but Cosima knows that Delphine wouldn’t let her do that so she let her help.

“Swim with me?” Delphine says before standing up to dive into the water. When she emerged, Cosima took off her glasses before asking Delphine to move back so she can cannonball into the lake without giving her girlfriend a black eye. The water is perfect, refreshingly clean with only a tinge of coldness which is a welcome sensation after helping Wallis grill the fish they had for lunch. Cosima swims back up to the addicting sounds of her girlfriend’s laughter, taking in the only clear image she can see with her limited vision – the sight of Delphine laughing and playfully splashing her with water.

“I know that’s not the sexiest entrance,” Cosima says as she puts her arms around the blonde, “but that’s how I used to jump off from the boat when I was a kid.”

“Non,” and Cosima can feel Delphine wrapping her arms around her waist, “it’s sexy, you’re very sexy,” and she rests her forehead on Cosima’s, the lake and the trees enveloping the shore creating the impression that they’re all alone in their own little corner of the world.

“So this is what it’s like,” and Cosima locks her legs around Delphine’s waist.

“What?”

“To be as tall as you,” Cosima whispers, “sometimes I get tired of standing on my tippy-toes just to kiss you,” and to prove her point, she leans in for a kiss, her hand ghosting the skin of Delphine’s neck as she directs the intensity of their lip lock.

“I can carry you like this on dry land,” Delphine breathes out after giving one more peck on the side of Cosima’s lips, “I have carried you like this a few times.”

“True,” and she lovingly kisses the scar on her girlfriend’s chest, “but this is the first time that you did it with some clothes on, I think.”

“Brat,” and Delphine playfully bites Cosima’s shoulder. “When do you leave Prague?”

“We’re training for a bit here, five days, and then we’re off to Stuttgart,” Cosima exhales a shaky breath at the thought of another long separation. “You’re not flying with the boys back to Toronto after this?” The cast’s filming in Prague for Totentanz had already concluded two days after Cosima arrived. She would have wanted to visit Delphine at work, but the shooting schedule was too tight that it wasn’t possible.

“Non,” Delphine says, “I sorted it out. And if it’s okay with you, I can hang out with you guys until you leave for Germany.”

Cosima doesn’t exactly know what Delphine sorted out for her to be able to stay an extra week in Prague, but she’s not about to say no to such a gift. She wonders sometimes if Delphine is sacrificing more just for them to be able to spend some time together. “_I don’t ever want to let you go,_” Cosima thinks as they silently float in the lake, the thought makes her tighten her hold on her girlfriend, closing her eyes at the feel of the blonde reciprocating the touch. And just like many months ago by the banks of a river on the other side of the Atlantic, Cosima wishes once again that time could stand still for her and Delphine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the closest thing I can write that can be considered as a Valentine's Day special of sorts. Let me know what you thought of it. :)
> 
> Also, most of the things here are from my own research so if I got something wrong, please do let me know (and sorry for any mistakes). 
> 
> Thank you as always for giving this story a shot. I’m also switching from a weekly update to once every two weeks as the upcoming months would be busier for me work-wise. Hope you stick around as this story continues. :) Huge thanks to Corsan for the read-through and for her feedback. :)


	19. War on Clay, Part 1

**One Month before the 2014 French Open **

The Sněžný Duch always yielded results for Vasek. The luxurious yacht - brought all the way from the waters of Florida four years ago - rarely leaves its private marina by the Vltava but Vasek knows that when it does, it is most likely playing host to somebody important.

Therein lies the rub - nobody knows when it leaves and by the time it’s spotted in the Adriatic or the Mediterranean, a slew of other photographers have already set camp to take snaps of its rich and famous passengers. More photographers means less money: the photos taken of whoever’s aboard lose its exclusivity as more paps become aware of its location, so for years Vasek has cultivated an unlikely and unknowing tipster - a shipwright specializing in Hatteras and Sunseeker yachts and who, by some lucky twist of fate, is a patron of the beer garden right across his apartment.

He’s a cheap date, often becoming loose-tongued after four pints of beer. A couple of nights ago, Vasek listened to him ramble on about how much he overcharged the Sněžný Duch’s billionaire-owner for maintenance works before it sails off in a few days’ time. And just like two years ago when a bored Hollywood star travelled from Cannes to Prague to cruise with supermodels aboard the yacht (the exclusive photos of the debauchery helped him buy new expensive equipment), Vasek has been camping out near the marina since early morning for a glimpse of its latest guests.

His patience pays off six hours later when he sees movement on the dock. With his camera on the ready, he zooms in and recognizes the people to be foreign actors shooting a popular TV show in the States. He had photographed them last month - with the picture he took of the blonde actress yielding the most profit. Vasek keeps an eye out for her, Delphine Cormier, and quickly takes multiple snaps when he spotted her walking arm in arm with a shorter, familiar-looking woman. 

“Jak se jmenuješ...” He says to himself as he checks the photos, seeing that the other woman’s hand was resting on the small of Delphine Cormier’s back. He asks himself the same question as he follows the yacht to its destinations - finally realizing who she is when the Sněžný Duch made a stop on Lake Slapy.

“Cosima Niehaus,” he says, taking photos of them sitting on the end of the yacht. He excitedly smirks when they jumped into the water, when they kissed, when they got back up on the yacht and showered with their swimsuits on. Driving back to Prague after a quick review of the pictures he took, he decided to hold on to the photos until Cosima Niehaus’ big tournament for more money. He grins, making a mental note to buy the shipwright a side of utopenec for his beers the next time he sees him.

\-----

**One Day before the French Open: French Open Kids’ Day 2014**

In many ways, Cosima feels like she’s seeing grand slam tennis through brand new eyes as she waits for her cue to enter Court Philippe Chatrier this afternoon. This is the first time that she’s participating in a major tournament with a single digit number next to her name – a ranking of 5, a new career high. To her and her team’s relief, her runner-up finish in Melbourne turned out to be more than just lightning in a bottle as her steady, consistent tennis spilled over to the rest of the hardcourt season resulting to a title in Doha and a semifinal in Indian Wells.

They first trained on red dirt in Prague, thankful for the strings that Barbs pulled that enabled them to play in an exclusive tennis club with traditional clay courts. In hindsight, it would have been ideal if their Vltava River vacation was not smacked right in the middle of pre-clay season training. Maybe if they trained for two weeks straight, she wouldn’t have arrived at Stuttgart undercooked and she could have avoided losing to Sveta Kuznetsova in the second round. Still, Cosima found it hard to brood about her performance, not when she can still vividly remember how amazing it was for her and Delphine to spend time together like a regular couple.

In the right headspace and feeling healthy, she made it to the finals of the next big clay tournament in Madrid, almost winning against Maria Sharapova after three sets. The loss was still encouraging and they headed to Rome optimistic, only for them to pull out before the third round when Cosima felt pain in her abdomen after pulling a muscle during practice.

“Save the grin-and-bear-it attitude for Paris,” Felix told her while they informed tournament officials about her withdrawal, “we have to get ready...things are different for us now.” Her physio couldn’t be any more right: “Being in a slam is different when you’re in the Top 10,” Cosima voiced out in one of the pre-French Open press conferences - another stark difference between now and last year when she was ranked 57th and nobody bothered to get a sound bite out of her.

Cosima would be the first to admit that some of the changes are convenient. Arriving in Paris this year, they were welcomed at the airport by a representative from the Fédération Française de Tennis who, upon Rachel’s request, arranged private transportation for them. Last year they had to queue for a taxi to get to the hotel, cramping all their gear in its nooks and crannies - not surprised to be doing the same thing when they got to their tournament-appointed rooms. They can now also afford to rent a small private house that’s closer to Stade Roland-Garros, saving them from the traffic and giving Sarah and Felix separate rooms for the first time during a slam. And the most convenient part is that they no longer had to worry about practice schedules. Last year they had to practically beg to be slotted in to any available practice court - the lack of practice showed when she got bounced in the first round.

The conveniences come with complications though. Coming in to Paris nursing a minor injury, Cosima would have preferred more time on court to find her clay legs and get familiar with the feel of running and sliding on the surface; the humidity and wind direction on court; and the weight and speed of the ball as it bounces and makes contact with her racquet. Interviews and sponsors can be demanding but Rachel has been up on her grill about making ample time for both since the Australian Open, leaving Cosima with no choice but to juggle it all.

But those are the simpler complications. The interviews are easy if monotonous, and the sponsors are generally okay – they all stuck with her after Melbourne so the least she can do is enthusiastically show up for their events. It is the obvious scouting by other coaches, the increased attention during open-to-the-public practices, and the predictions that she can win it all in two weeks’ time that make breathing more difficult nowadays.

And of course there is the “destiny angle” brought up by an intrepid reporter from The New York Times during the presser. The possibility of winning the Coupe Suzanne Lenglen on the 10th anniversary of her juniors triumph in Paris seemed like an impossible dream just a year ago. Cosima should be excited at the prospect of meeting her destiny, but now that she has a real shot at making the dream a reality, why does the idea feel like a cross to bear?

“Mademoiselle Niehaus?” And Cosima looks up from her notes on her phone at the young man. “It is your turn on court,” he says, accent heavy.

“Merci, ahh...Donnez moi juste une minute, s’il vous plaît,” Cosima says with a satisfied smile as she puts on a cardigan, thinking to herself that her French tutor would probably be happy with her pronunciation. While the tennis-related pressures make it hard for her to breathe, seeing Delphine at the doorstep of the rented house was the best take-your-breath-away moment she’s ever had since that afternoon on the yacht. She arrived in Paris three days ago, claiming to be travel-worn and reeking of airplane smell, which didn’t stop her from pulling her close for a hug and a kiss.

Apart from her girlfriend being in Paris for the entire duration of her tournament, Cosima’s participation in the French Open’s Kids’ Day this afternoon is a welcome distraction from all the pressures and expectations. It’s for a good cause and it should be fun playing a no-frills mixed doubles exhibition with a couple of male French tennis players and Alizé Cornet, who’s now excitedly waving at her to join them.

“Alizé ...What is she like?” She remembered Delphine asking her last night while wrapped in her embrace. Cosima was about to ask why she’s curious, but her girlfriend beat her to the punch. “When I was with Sarah and Felix in New York, they mentioned her name a lot. I was drunk but whatever it was they were talking about was making them laugh very hard.”

“Uhm, you ever had a schoolmate who has an opinion about everything and everyone, who overreacts and gets theatrical about the smallest of things?” Cosima said, kissing Delphine’s palm. “Who could be really grating at times, yet you still wanna listen to what they have to say and be friends with them?”

“Oui,” Delphine answered, grazing Cosima’s shoulders with her lips.

“Well, that’s Alizé for you in a nutshell,” and Cosima turned around to cup her girlfriend’s face with her palms. “Hmm, tu es belle,” she whispered to Delphine before pulling her in for a kiss.

“Très bien, ma brillante étudiante, très bien,” Delphine cooed, returning the kiss with ample interest.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you, Cos,” Alizé says to her now as Chatrier gets drowned in house music that makes her miss hitting the clubs, “that your French is better. Far from when we were juniors and all you can say is voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir,” Alizé laughs and Cosima cringes at the memory. “Are you taking lessons?”

“Technically no,” and Cosima tries to hide a blush forming on her cheeks, “but really, it’s passable?”

“Ouais, pas mal,” Alizé emotes, “though it sounds more Québécois to me...”

Cosima and Alizé go to separate ends of the court to join their mixed doubles partners when the emcee finished introducing them to a very energetic crowd. The stadium seats are filled with kids and their parents who are vibrantly bouncing along to the beat of the live upbeat music - the sights and sounds making Court Philippe Chatrier a little less intimidating.

“First time in Chatrier?” Stéphane, her doubles partner who is a wheelchair tennis champion, asks with a small nudge on her arm.

“Oui,” Cosima smiles as she takes in the stadium. She has never played on Roland-Garros’ main court, never progressing far enough to make it here. “The closest I’ve ever got,” she says to Stéphane, “is playing at Lenglen 10 years ago for juniors.”

“Bien,” and he wheels himself to the service box, “maybe this is the year,” he says with a wink as he gets ready to serve.

The music, the kids, and the general cheeriness of the occasion made Cosima take the rare opportunity to play no-consequence-purely-for-pleasure tennis, choosing swings and shots she would never do in an actual match. And in one particularly lively rally, Cosima hits a winning tweener off a lob from Alizé’s partner, Laurent – much to the delight of the already-hyped crowd who hooted loudly and got to their feet when the trick shot clipped the doubles line.

“Did anybody get a video of that?” She asks the delighted crowd, “tag me so I can show it off,” and Alizé translated her words to French which made the stadium laugh. All loosened up, cheery, and feeding off from the crowd’s enthusiasm, Cosima found herself dancing with Laurent and Alizé on court after the exhibition, further entertaining the fans who dance along with them.

“Cosima,” the emcee says interviewing her last because she is the lone non-French player on court, “Can you say a few words in your first ever Kids’ Day exhibition?”

“Study your speech some more,” Delphine said to her last night as she re-wore the oversized shirt and sleeping shorts that Cosima had discarded hours ago, “and repeat after me...”

“Can’t we just leave the clothes off and get back into bed?” Cosima said, re-wearing only her glasses.

“Tell you what, ma petite chérie,” and Delphine handed her cellphone to her, “if you manage to deliver your speech with no mistakes, I’ll do anything you want in here.”

“Anything?” Cosima said with a mischievous grin.

“Oui, anything.”

“Uhm...Merci à toutes et à tous d’être ici...” Cosima begins her speech and the crowd goes quiet, sans for a baby who started wailing. _Attentive silence or awkward silence? Oh crap, I‘m screwing it up _she thinks, but the emcee has a smile on his face and motions with his hand for her to continue so she did after taking a deep breath.

“Je ne parle pas très bien le français donc ne me détestez pas,” and she laughs and raises her hands in surrender. Surprisingly, she can hear amused laughter coming from the stands. “Uhmm...Un jour, j’espère le parler couramment mais pour le moment, j’espère que ces mots suffiront,” she continues and the audience claps and cheers. Cosima realizes now that she hasn’t royally fucked up and that the crowd seems to be applauding her efforts to talk in the vernacular.

She proceeds cautiously and slowly, remembering how Delphine giggled when she messed up saying particularly difficult words in this part of the speech. “Voir vos sourires me rappelle combien est-ce que Paris est spécial à mes yeux,” she says slowly. “J’ai toujours rêvé de gagner Roland Garros et, en tant qu’enfant, j’ai eu de la chance d’avoir des parents qui avaient les moyens de m’aider à réaliser mes rêves.”

As if she just recited a difficult tongue twister, Cosima is tempted to continue her speech in English. But she had practiced this several times and it’s the last part of the speech, so she goes for it. “Je sais que tous les enfants ne sont pas aussi chanceux c'est pourquoi j'ai choisi d'être mécène de “Fête le mur” et de donner 7 500 dollars afin que plus d’enfants encore puissent jouer au tennis.”

Sure that she fumbled a few words here and there, Cosima added the most charming smile she can muster at the end, hoping that it can make up for her mistakes . She isn’t prepared for the people’s reactions – they seem to all be smiling and clapping, some are whistling and there are a few who are on their feet.

“Merci encore et j’espère vous voir tous durant nos matchs,” and she bows, showing her appreciation to everybody inside Chatrier while lapping up their adoration.

“I think you just made a lot of new fans today,” Alizé says and the still-clapping crowd validates her sentiment. “And that sounded really good. You sure you’re not taking lessons?”

“Sure I’m sure,” Cosima says with a grin as she lets her imagination run wild about the things she and Delphine can do tonight.

\-----

**French Open Fourth Round: The Jinx**

Delphine had only watched Cosima play tennis on hardcourt prior to making time for Paris. In Montreal, she was in awe of the American’s focus – down in the tiebreak, she stuck around mentally to claw her way back and win the set. In the U.S. Open, even though she was confused and racked with jealousy, she couldn’t help but admire Cosima’s fighting spirit. In Moscow, the brunette’s composure and confidence made her a fan. And during Melbourne, she was proud of her resilience – of how she found a way to dig deep match after match.

But for Delphine, none of the hardcourt tussles can even compare to the sight of seeing Cosima play on clay. In the three matches that she watched from the player’s box, she couldn’t stop observing the dizzying movement of her girlfriend’s feet, wondering how she seems astonishingly graceful and faster on a surface that Sarah and Felix say is a slow one.

On clay, she can see Cosima’s uncanny anticipation – as if she knew where the ball would land – which gives her head starts to construct poetic rallies through her compact and unreadable shots and strokes. Meeting the brunette in the tunnels after every match, she couldn’t help but mentally trace the remnants of her clay court efforts: the small red particles crusting all over Cosima’s back mixed with sweat, creating a unique constellation that is mesmerizing and - if Delphine is being honest - also quite arousing.

Watching live clay court tennis made her realize that her cheeky American girlfriend’s real strength as a tennis player lies in her ability to generously help her opponents self-destruct. For three rounds now, Delphine has seen Cosima douse the other side of the court with gasoline, strike a match, and toss it over the net while staying clear of the incendiary flames. Making time to watch her girlfriend orchestrate one beautiful disaster after another on the other side of the net may have cost her a film role, and a couple of commercials and interviews – but surprisingly, she feels that it’s well worth it. She used to be resentful of former lovers when that happened. But one look around the stadium minutes before Cosima’s fourth round match is enough for her to believe that there is no place she’d rather be but right here.

The prolonged closeness to the action has also given her a glimpse of what goes on behind the scenes. The actor in her can’t help but observe not only Cosima, but also Sarah and Felix in a grand slam setting. And as it turns out, Team Niehaus is a fairly superstitious bunch. They eat the same meals everyday: poached eggs, orange marmalade, and wheat toasts for breakfast at the house; and turkey sandwiches with avocado and a pasta salad for dinner in the same restaurant.

Cosima has also worn the same sleep shirt every night since she got here – a gray, V-neck shirt with the words “The City by the Bay” that has thinned and faded after many years of use, Delphine surmises. The shirt is either folded or hung come morning before Cosima goes in for a long shower, which amuses Delphine because over the months of sharing a house, a flat, and a variety of hotel rooms with the dreadlocked brunette, this is the first time she had seen her actually pick up after her clothes. Then there’s the playlist - Cosima must listen to the same four songs as they leave the house to get to the stadium complex. It blasted through her earphones as they sat together in the car, making her realize that the playlist just loops.

Talking to Sarah and Felix, she also discovered that Cosima chooses to use the same shower stall in the locker room and that she has to recite the periodic table of elements by atomic number at least thrice during the shorter shower after a match. They laugh about it - how deep down Cosima is just a geek monkey who happens to be awesome at tennis, but Delphine finds it funny that Sarah and Felix also have their share of quirks.

Felix watches one episode of Grey’s Anatomy everyday during breakfast. “I’ve been at it since last year,” he said when she asked. “I’m 9 episodes into Season 2,” - which Delphine took to mean that he only watches during grand slam season. He brings exactly six towels and six bottles to the player’s box, even when Cosima has all she needs on court. He also doesn’t shave for as long as they keep winning - something she already noticed in the earlier tournaments.

Sarah’s superstitions are subtler and harder to catalogue. Every match, she ties her hair in a messy ponytail with a hair binder that has a small smiling monkey wearing an orange shirt. Delphine noticed that Sarah has a ton of monkey hair binders when she inadvertently peeked inside the coach’s bag. She also suspected that Sarah wore the same pair of yellow socks every match – a suspicion she confirmed after the second round when she saw Sarah washing the same pair that night.

“Are you guys praying?” Delphine points to Sarah and Felix who have their eyes closed and their hands linked. This is the first time she’d seen them do that before a match.

“Yes we are...kind of...to the Tennis Gods,” Felix says while extending his hand to Delphine. “Come on, we need all the help we can get.”

“What are we praying for exactly?” Delphine asks as she takes Felix’s hand, “for Cosima to win?”

“No,” Sarah answers, “for Cosima to repel the jinx...Repel the Jinx, Niehaus...”

“Fucking repel the Jinx, Cos,” Felix repeats the chant.

“Euh...Repel the Jinx, Babycakes,” Delphine follows suit even if she has no idea what they’re praying for.

“Babycakes?!? Really?!” A scandalized Felix asks with an incredulous snort. “Okay...Babycakes...” He says again, trying out the word on his lips.

“What is the Jinx?” Delphine asks after their “prayer” to change the subject.

“She”- and Sarah points to the player who just entered the Bullring after Cosima, “is the Jinx.”

Delphine reads the opponent’s name on the screen: Camila Giorgi from Italy. “I’m afraid I don’t follow,” she admits as she observes the svelte woman who’s wielding a racquet that seems too big for her.

“Don’t let the small, pretty face fool you. She’s bad juju, the women’s tennis equivalent of a black cat walking under a leaning ladder,” Felix exasperatedly supplies.

“Since she made her slams debut in 2011 at Wimbledon, nobody from her section has won a championship,” Sarah whispers. “Only three things can happen if you win over her during a slam: you immediately lose your next match, you never make it to the finals, or you get to the finals but you lose.”

“And this is true?” She asks, finding the idea silly as Cosima and the supposed Jinx warm up on court after the coin toss.

“Yes,” Felix answers. “In 2011 at Wimbledon she lost to Pironkova in the first round who lost in the quarterfinals to Petra Kvitova who won the entire thing. In 2012, she made it to the fourth round of Wimbledon where she got pummelled by Radwanska. Radwanska lost in the final against Serena.”

“And in the U.S. Open, she lost to Berty Vinci who lost to Cos in the quarters,” Sarah says. “In Melbourne this year, Alizé won against her but she immediately lost her next match. The same thing happened last year both here and in Australia.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Delphine couldn’t help but say, “maybe it’s just a coincidence or -”

“It’s not a coincidence!” Felix adamantly adds.

“There’s only one player who eluded the Jinx,” Sarah says now looking at her straight in the eye, “and that’s Marion Bartoli who defeated her in the third round of Wimbledon last year.”

“The Original Jinx,” Felix mutters, “ever since she started playing in Slams in 2001, nobody from her section won the championship...”

“Marion went on to win Wimbledon 2013,” Sarah says as she opens her tablet to chart the match.

“The third round was a Jinx-on-Jinx battle,” Felix tells. “And Marion winning Wimbledon was like the ceremonial passing of the Jinx torch from her to this girl. So never question the Jinx – it just makes her powers more potent.”

“Repel the Jinx,” Delphine says, slightly convinced but highly amused with Sarah and Felix’s conjectures.

As the match wore on, Delphine realizes that they were right not to pray for a victory for Cosima since there seems to be no way that she would lose given the way the Jinx plays. For one, the Jinx’s strategy is essentially anchored on hitting the ball as hard as possible, an approach that Sarah described as “brainless ball-bashing at its finest.” Second, unlike Cosima who beautifully runs and slides on the red dirt, Camila seems awkward on clay. Third, the Jinx doesn’t seem to care if she double faults during her service games. “In her ball-bashing head, all serves are first serves,” Sarah commented, a thinking that resulted to free points for the American.

Barely an hour had elapsed and Cosima was comfortably ahead by a set and 3-1 in the second canto. In the middle of building a 4-1 double break lead, Delphine’s phone began to vibrate. She looks - it’s just Aldous and he can wait. The double break was secured and Cosima was walking towards her seat when her phone went off again, still Aldous, and she lets it go straight to voicemail, making a mental note to call him back later. Her girlfriend was finishing off a bottle of Perrier in her seat when Aldous called again. _What do you want?_ She ponders as she shoves the phone back in her pocket. Another shake as Cosima inspects her racquet made Delphine consider answering the call. Only this time, it wasn’t a call but a message.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Sarah says from her aisle seat, alerting Delphine of another presence in the player’s box: Rachel Duncan, her girlfriend’s agent – somebody she’s heard so much about but has never met.

“It’s nice to see you too, Sarah, but I’m afraid I’m here for Miss Cormier. Delphine, can you come with me?” Rachel says, barely acknowledging her client’s coach and physio.

The stories she’s heard from Cosima, Sarah, and Felix have made her wary of Rachel Duncan and under normal circumstances, she would have immediately asked what she wants from her. But after seeing Aldous’ message, walking out of the player box with Rachel seems to be imperative.

“What’s going on, blondie?” And Delphine hands her phone to Felix who reads the contents of the message.

**_“EXCLUSIVE: Hot Romance! International TV Star Delphine Cormier and Tennis Ace Cosima Niehaus in Sweet Secret Prague Getaway”_**, the screenshot of what looks like an online article says along with a grainy photo of Delphine and Cosima in the lake mid-kiss.

“Ne jamais tenter le mauvais sort,” Delphine silently mumbles as Felix returns the phone before she walks away with Rachel.

\-----

**French Open Fourth Round: Press Conference**

By this time, Cosima should probably be saying _Boron, Carbon, Nitrogen_ for the second time under the shower. Reciting the periodic table is a relatively new superstition, only slightly older than the revision of her playlist. It was something she picked up absently in Nuremberg when she had to wait longer than usual to use the bathroom before the third set after winning the first and getting bageled in the second. She won that encounter and a day later, she got her first title ever, so naturally the superstition stuck.

Cosima knew something was up the minute she looked at her box and didn’t see her. She finished her on-court interview and prepared for another interview by the dugout when she finally saw Delphine in the tunnels. Her heart leaped when their eyes locked on each other, only for it to beat like a hammer when she saw Rachel with her. “_You’re going to need me when this goes public,_” the words her agent said in Melbourne echoed in her mind as the unwanted time of need seemed to have arrived at the second week of a major tournament. What impeccable timing.

_It had to happen sometime_, Cosima thought when her agent found an empty room where they could talk. Sarah and Felix stood guard by the door as Rachel laid out the facts. She received word from an insider that after buying the exclusive rights to a series of paparazzi photos, a British tabloid is set to publish a story about them in time for the second week of Roland-Garros. “The photos are,” and Rachel opened her phone to show it to them, “quite artistic. Nothing we cannot spin to our advantage.”

Instinctively, Cosima reached out to take Delphine’s hand. The article and the photos wouldn’t have that much of an effect on her – she’d been out to everyone who matters even before she turned 18, and she’s been out to the world ever since Melbourne. How is this going to affect her girlfriend? “How Miss Cormier deals with this would be a matter between her and her agent,” Rachel said without even throwing an apologetic look at Delphine when Cosima asked. “They’ll do their own damage control.”

“There is no damage to control,” Delphine angrily said - the hand she’s holding clutched hers firmer, “this man took our photos, objectified us, and made money out of it without our knowledge or consent. I refuse this to be damaging to me...to us.” Cosima wanted to kiss her senseless at that moment. “I’ve already spoken with Aldous and we are going to deal with this in the simplest, most dignified way possible. On our own terms,” and Delphine looked at Cosima, determined to act on what she said. 

“Dignified as possible,” Cosima said with a small smile, “I like the sound of that. Let’s do that,” and Rachel offered a weak nod before turning her back on them. Before leaving the room, they decided that it would be best for Delphine to not be around the stadium to avoid the media. Sarah offered to go back with her to the house while Felix would stay behind with her.

“What do you want me to say to them?” Cosima asked, giving Delphine a chaste peck on the cheek as she waited for her answer.

“I trust you,” and she kissed her forehead. “What do you want me to say?”

“I trust you too.” She wanted to say and do more, but she had a press conference in half an hour.

“Let’s go babycakes,” Felix chimed in and before she could even ask how he knew about that, Delphine said she’s going to explain everything later at the house.

Coming out of the element-less shower, Cosima reviews the strategy that she and Rachel came up with. It’s simple: pre-empt any British reporter from asking about her relationship with Delphine by getting somebody they trust to open the topic. It would occur early in the presser. She would set the record straight and that’s the last time she would publicly discuss her relationship.

She dresses up and gives Felix one long look before heading to the media room. Sitting by a long table in front of about 20 reporters, she can see Rachel at the back of the room, steely and unreadable as usual. It’s odd, Cosima thinks, but her agent’s presence gives her some kind of security, a sliver of comfort even.

“We have two good things working on our favor,” Rachel said before she had a shower, “one: the vast majority of French people value privacy. They tend to be respectful, even protective, of those who are hounded by paparazzi and gossip. If somebody asks a very personal question in the presser, you can count on French journalists to at least sneer at them or get things back on subject.”

“You seemingly had a momentary lapse in concentration in the second set,” a Portuguese reporter starts the proceedings, “you were cruising, up 4- 1 and then you looked at your box and it looks like something bothered you. Then the match got interesting at 4-3. What can you tell us about that?” As he said that, the female reporter beside him with a L'Équipe press badge couldn’t hide the scoff on her face at the question.

“I don’t really remember exactly,” Cosima lies, “because at that moment what was on my mind is that Camila is finding her game. So I had to manage that first before figuring out what bothered me or what made me lose my concentration.”

“Hello, Cosima,” the French reporter beside the Portuguese journo goes next. “Can you tell us about the match and your strategy facing someone like Giorgi?”

“Hi,” she nervously answers, “yeah, it’s always tough with Camila because any given time, she can get her rhythm and her shots will catch the lines. And before you know it, you’re getting blown off the court. I knew I have to be on point – to control the pace of the game, to not allow her shots that she can kill. It’s always a delicate balance of passive and aggressive when it comes to her.”

“Two: Caroline Wozniacki’s engagement,” and Rachel shrugged, finding it hard to talk about something that’s only mildly-related to business. “Ever since that fiasco, the media managers have been reminding reporters not to ask tennis players sensitive personal questions...And,” Rachel looked like she can use a stiff one at that time, “heartbreak sells more than what we are dealing with, so at least you won’t be alone in the spotlight. Who do you want to ask the question, Cosima?”

The chosen reporter is sitting in the second row of seats and promptly raised her pen to ask the question. “I’m sorry, but it has come to my attention that an article is going to be printed about you and the actress Delphine Cormier. Can you comment on that and clarify things?”

“Thank you, Courtney,” and Cosima meant it – she is actually one of the few tennis reporters she likes and she knows that if not prodded, she wouldn’t dare post these kinds of questions to anybody. “Yes, an article will be published tomorrow or the next day that sensationalizes and objectifies my private, personal relationship with Delphine Cormier. I’ve already seen how it’s laid out and all - and I think the photos will speak for themselves. But to make it clear, yes we are in a relationship. It is a committed, loving relationship that we don’t hide but we’d love to keep between us.”

She pauses to read the room before proceeding, quite satisfied that a correspondent connected with the British tabloid who will run the article is frustratingly scratching his head at being outscooped. “My sexuality is not the most interesting thing about me. Delphine’s sexuality is not the most interesting thing about her,” and she made sure that the statement is directed to the tabloid reporter. “This is the only time I’m going to speak about this. I’d be happy to answer more of your tennis or tournament-related questions moving forward. Thank you.”

The room began to buzz just like it did in Melbourne all those months back. And while the chatter Down Under emboldened her to speak her mind and stand her ground, the haze and noise in Paris have made her anxious and nervous. This is more than just her life, Cosima thinks, and before she loses her composure she chose to hang on to what Delphine said in that empty room before everything came out in the open.

_“I refuse this to be damaging to me...to us.”_

It gave her comfort the first time she heard it, but recalling it now is not igniting the same feeling. The biggest tournament of her career is on-going and she’s one of the favorites to win it. How can she refuse to let this damage her and their relationship? Can she hold her end of the bargain? If she’s being honest, what Delphine said is making her selfishly question how this distraction is going to affect her performance in the next round. And as reporter after reporter asks their on-topic questions, Cosima begins to feel the biting shivers of cold feet for the first time in this tournament and in her relationship with Delphine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I wrote this chapter, Maria Sharapova announced her retirement. She’s quite a polarizing figure – you either like her (maybe because of this https://youtu.be/nfuDPWS3q1I), or you don’t (maybe because of this https://youtu.be/n226IEjVxWk). Personally, I never rooted for her – she has enough support from her millions of fans anyway. Still, it can’t be denied that she accomplished a lot and whatever one thinks of her 2016 ban, for sure she’s going to be in the Hall of Fame as soon as she’s eligible for it. :)
> 
> Another recently retired player mentioned here is Caroline Wozniacki. You can watch a tribute to her here if you’re interested - https://youtu.be/TMQ-e_GwwyU
> 
> And Camila Giorgi is still out there “jinxing”. Here’s her latest handiwork: 2020 Australian Open - https://youtu.be/GLQ0mzJ_lnk . Do note that her opponent, Angie Kerber, lost her next match - https://youtu.be/0-zYq1Mz0AE?t=104 .
> 
> Thank you very much as always for reading and/or commenting. Post your tennis-related questions or thoughts in the comments. My biggest thanks to mon amie Corsan not only for the help with the French but also for giving valuable direction, opinions, and inputs to this chapter.


	20. War on Clay, Part 2

**French Open 2014, One Day before Quarterfinals: June 2, 2014**

_The French is nothing but dramatic and it showed in the first week of Roland-Garros. The week was filled with on-court drama: former champion Li Na losing in the first round to emerging hometown darling Kristina Mladenovic, defending champion Serena Williams getting the upset treatment in the second round, and half of the Top 10 bidding goodbye before the second week. The drama seemed to have also taken a life of its own off-court and here to talk about all these are our panel of esteemed former pros. So Jim, Martina, and Chandra, what do we make out of all the drama that we have witnessed in the first seven days of grand slam tennis in Paris?_

_Let’s parse the on-court drama first. I think the upsets just show the depth of women’s tennis today – anybody in the Top 100 can beat anybody on any given day. Mladenovic is promising; Muguruza has all the potential to win the French Open soon; Tomljanović showed poise during her Radwanska match; and Genie Bouchard is showing all of us that she’s the real deal. The kids are here to play and it looks like they’re here to stay._

_I can’t agree with you more, Chandra. But if you look at the Top 10 that got the early boot, you can see that most of them aren’t really clay players – you mentioned Radwanska, but also add Kvitova, Kerber, Cibulkova to the mix. It’s not really an upset. Even Serena needed time to adjust before she got the hang of playing on red clay._

_Which leaves us to the elephant in the room, and given that Martina is the only one yet to speak, I think this question is yours. Let’s not discuss the nitty-gritties of Caroline Wozniacki and Cosima Niehaus’ personal lives, but let me ask you, if you were to pick between playing when your heart is broken and playing while your personal love story is being revealed to the public, which would you choose?_

_Let’s just address the other elephant in the room, Brett – we wouldn’t be talking about this if they were men. Would you be asking Djokovic about where he’ll honeymoon after he gets married in July? Or ask Andy Murray how he plans to propose to his girlfriend? Of course not. So I can sympathize with what these girls are going through because personally, I’ve experienced both. When things are going great, I played great. But when things are going badly, the court becomes a place of security where I can shut off everything and hide. So I was able to find solace on court whether things are going good or bad. But it’s different now, it’s hard enough when your heart is broken - it’s harder when the whole world knows it. There’s never a good time to break up, but for a tennis player, this is the worst time for a relationship crisis._

_So you would rather be in Cosima’s situation? Love is in the air, you are still in the tournament, and the odds are in your favor to win it all?_

_As I’ve said, Brett, it’s a different time now. Privacy is no longer within your control, so good luck to Cosima on that. I hope she can rise above and set these aside for later. But between two evils, I’d rather be in the evil that makes me happy. And it doesn’t take a genius to figure out who among these two girls is happy._

Delphine stops the video from playing when the discussion shifted from the women’s game to the men’s. Looking at the video queue on her phone, she sighs - she needs to watch four more of these kinds of coverage about her and Cosima. “_So you know what’s out there and you won’t be caught with your pants down – literally and figuratively,_” Aldous said condescendingly before sending in the list.

She waited until Cosima and her team left to hit the practice courts before casting the videos to the living room TV. Overhearing a phone conversation between her girlfriend and Rachel last night, Delphine knew that apart from practice, Cosima would also need to grant several interviews as a quarterfinalist. She has the house to herself for the better part of the day and while she intended to study up on scripts for a couple of films she’ll be making in a few months, Aldous did have a point.

The first video she watched from France TV Sport was encouraging - the topic quickly forgotten after one of their commentators said _“Rooooh Cosima a de la chance!!!”_ It even made her smile, thinking to herself that she’s the luckier one in this relationship. She expected the American coverage to discuss it given that Cosima is the only American left in contention, and while it didn’t sit well with her that she’s being labelled as a lesser evil, she’s still thankful that Martina didn’t mention that she was actually there across the net when she and Cosima first met in Montreal.

Besides, _“_set things aside for later” seems to be Cosima’s chosen way of coping with this development.

“I love you,” Delphine recalls Cosima saying to her that first night when the photos were published after her press conference, “but can we just not discuss this now? I promise that we’re going to deal with this together...Just not now.” Delphine thinks that the kiss she gave Cosima, a kiss that escalated into tender lovemaking, was enough for her to convey her agreement. If this is what she needs on the quest to a first grand slam trophy, then she’s going to give it to her – no questions asked, for now.

She did have questions – questions that range from the simple (_they can still hold hands in public, right?_), the complicated (_what would her career look like now?_), to the really complex (_what would their lives resemble now?_). Delphine chooses to set these aside, secured that the moment to talk about it will come in due time.

Absently playing the next video, Delphine was surprised to see Martial’s face on TV. From their time together, she knew he was in Cannes a week ago – his latest film was selected for the Un Certain Regard section. He was asked about his next project and mentioned that he’s on-board to direct the film adaptation of Océane’s Sandwich Board.  _ “Delphine Cormier is set to headline the cast, is it awkward to be working with someone you used to date?” _

Delphine leans closer to the TV, waiting for Martial to answer the question or refrain from giving a reply. When Océane asked her a month ago if she would be okay with it, she said it is fine; they’re professionals and things ended amicably. Martial even called her before agreeing to the project - “If it’s awkward for you or for your partner, I would back off.” But she knew why Océane picked Martial to direct Sandwich Board: she trusts him to not change things too much, so Delphine agreed.

_“No. Delphine and I are friends and professionals. "Ce n'est pas un problème.”_

_“She’s dating someone new now, care to comment on that?”_

_“No comment.” _And whatever doubts Delphine had about being honest with him about why she ended things disappeared.

“Whatever the problem is, we can make it work,” Martial said, “I can be based in Toronto or Montreal, and we can start there and fix this.”

“It’s not that,” Delphine replied as she made her way to the smoking nook, the packs of cigarettes she consumed last night with Sarah and Felix didn’t put her off from lighting another stick. “I don’t feel the same way about you anymore...” She needed one, two puffs of her cigarette before she got the courage to finish her reply. “Je ne t'aime plus.”

“Il y a quelqu'un d'autre?”

“Oui!” Delphine was surprised at the bluntness of her reply. “Mais nous ne serons jamais ensemble. Je ne crois pas qu'elle et moi soyons jamais ensemble.” She saw his brows rise when she said “elle”, but his features softened as he took a seat.

“Peut-être pourrais-tu par commencé par être honnête avec elle, de la même façon que tu es honnête avec moi,” he finally said while staring at her, “ça pourrait être aussi douloureux que ce que je ressens, là, maintenant, mais au moins ce serait dit.”

Those were the last words he said to her before he stubbed out his cigarette, gave her a nod, picked up his bags and left.

“What I would give to watch television all day,” Felix says as he opens the front door, Delphine quickly shutting off the TV. “We’re here to pick you up, blondie. Lunch!”

“Where is Cosima?” She couldn’t help but ask. The last thing she wants is for her girlfriend to see what she’s been watching. She is going to tell Cosima about working with him after the grass season when they’re back in Toronto.

“In the car with Sarah, picking up the stuff we’re dropping off. Come on, put on a coat and let’s go,” and as soon as he said those words, her girlfriend entered the house lugging a couple of tennis bags. She kissed her softly and was rewarded with a small but tired-looking smile. “I’m going to throw on a better shirt and a coat, just give me five minutes,” and as Delphine climbs up the stairs to their room, she says to herself that whatever she thinks of the photos and the tabloid articles and their implications in their lives, they can wait until Paris is over.

\-----

**French Open 2014: Quarterfinals – June 3, 2014 **

_Tennis is simple, Cos. Sometimes, the need to overcomplicate something so innately fucking simple gets in your way. A tennis game, any game on any surface - be it here in Paris or in some no-name town with a 10k event, only has two parts, Cos: the service game and the return game. Sam has that gobsmacking top-spin kick serve that she loves so much because it works on both first and second serves. You have to be very careful about returning that serve specially in the AD COURT. Sam is going to be 7 or 8 feet away from the centre line so she can create an angle out wide, which leaves you with little choice but to return outside your comfort zone._

With the ball kids brushing the clay court in preparation for the second set, Cosima looks at her notes – at what Sarah wrote the day before in her notebook. It’s a CliffsNotes version of a longer strategy spiel, something her coach doesn’t do a lot especially when the opponent is somebody she had fared well against in recent match-ups. “But this is clay and Stosur was five, six points away from winning this in 2010,” was Sarah’s excuse. Cosima is sure that it’s not her main reason for doing so.

_With the ball kicked up and away from you, Sam will start the rally with her forehand, her favourite. Its directed to the open court. DO NOT stand too behind from the baseline COS. DO NOT MOVE BACK 2 OR 3 FEET AWAY FROM THE RECEIVING POSITION WE PRACTICED. Moving too far, the best that can happen is you return the forehand with a looper then she kills you with a return. That’s when you lose...WHEN YOU LET HER WIN ON RETURNS._

Cosima can only offer a sarcastic half-smirk, half-smile at Sarah’s reminders. Nothing is making sense. Nothing is working. Not because Sammy has been doing something different apart from playing great. Willing herself to think of the positives, Cosima thinks that at least she got to three games in the first set...3-6...that’s a decent losing score. She’s still quick on her feet, she still slides and stops on the clay. But movement and being at the right place at the right time means squat when you shank your pass. She’s losing by her own doing - her racquet betraying her with every shot, every return.

She lets out a humorless laugh. Even trying to think positive is not working. 

Cosima then looks at her box, passing the time between sets by creating imaginary thoughts about what they’re thinking right now.

“_Cos is going against the fucking strategy!_” is what Sarah is probably thinking.

“_I taped her ankles right, right? Dammit! Burn the Jinx!_” is probably Felix’s internal monologue.

“_When do I tell her I’m making a movie with my ex?_” is the only explanation Cosima can think of behind the image of Delphine watching a snippet of Martial’s interview yesterday. She seemed pretty engrossed that she didn’t notice her staring through the window across the living room. She didn’t even hear the wooden gate open and close as she quickly got back to the car after dropping her tennis bag on the walkway.

Cosima knew about Martial’s involvement with Sandwich Board when Pete mentioned it aboard the yacht. He was just looking out for his friend she thought when he said it to her, assuring him that she trusts Delphine and she understands. Cosima didn’t take it against her girlfriend for not telling her right away – they don’t have a lot of time together to talk given their work and schedules. And she didn’t want to coax it out of her, wanting Delphine to tell her when she’s ready.

Then their photos got published and over a lazy late lunch yesterday, she couldn’t help but think that the tabloids will probably break the news before Delphine finally comes out with it.

“Really bitch?!? This is what you’re thinking about down a set in the quarters? Fuck you.” Cosima didn’t notice she said her inner thought out loud until the umpire looked her way.

“I heard that,” Marija - an umpire she likes - says, “the next time would be a code violation.” Cosima could only raise a hand to express a halfhearted apology and as she returns her notebook to trade it for her traitor of a racquet, a random page shows a random scribble.

_Secret note, Babycakes! Je t'aime - D_

She knew she was toast when even a sweet note from the woman she’s head over heels in love with is not making her think of the positives. Maybe that’s the problem - Cosima theorizes as she robotically walks to receive another haymaker of a serve from Sam Stosur after giving up her first service game of the second set. “I’m over-complicating something so simple.” She didn’t know if that was still about tennis or about Delphine, but one look at the scoreboard - 0-3 - was all it took for her to panic and overthink her impending demise.

Maybe she can try to be the wall and run her way through it because her movement is working – it’s the only thing working. So she did. She retrieves. She returns. It’s a passive game and Sarah will be pissed but at least the ball is landing within the line. The problem is Sam’s returns are also finding the lines. Wrong strategy. 0-4 in the second set, eight points away from elimination.

Cosima makes shit up as she goes deeper into the hole. New strategy - maybe matching power with power will yield something. It did yield something all right, she thinks, as she makes her way back to her chair – three careless errors, a very tired huff of breath, 0-5 in the second set, and four short points away from booking an early ticket to London.

“Like the turkey, Cos is done,” and this time, her inner ditty didn’t escape her lips. She looks out to the court, to the graveyard of her grand slam hopes, when a swirl of clay dust caught her eye and made her pay attention.

“The wind is picking up,” she mutters to herself. “That can work,” and she goes back to her graveyard with her shovel-slash-racquet to test her theory.

_Take care of your serve, Cos. It’s not that strong, but it can be precise. Remember our targets._

She didn’t have to read Sarah’s number one reminder as she rides the sliver of hope that maybe she can at least avoid the bagel and opt for the breadstick. She’s finally on the board, 1-5 in the second set, after having her best service game of the match where all her first serves went in. She made sure to win on returns too, putting in the right amount of power to her shots to complement the unpredictable gust inside the court.

_Hold your ground on the baseline. Disrupt her kick serve-forehand_ _pattern._

The pattern that Sarah talked about has been paying off for Sam, and Cosima banks on the notion that her opponent isn’t going to fix something that isn’t broken. As Sam steps farther away from the center line for her serve, she walks to step on the baseline, finally mustering the courage to face her doom with dignity. The simple adjustment disrupts the pattern, leaving Sam with one less weapon to work with. She gets the break, 2-5. Maybe she can replicate the 3-6 score in the first set for a respectable loss.

_Mix things up. We’ve practiced that now DO it._

Accepting that the game is lost anyway, Cosima decides that she might as well try something new. She and Sarah have been practicing spin serves since last year - maybe she can throw a couple of those to mix things up a bit. Good choice because Sam didn’t expect those, resulting to unforced errors on return. The wind becomes her ally as Sam’s shots that would have gone in 15 minutes ago are being blown out. 3-5...The end is still near.

_The kick serve does not work on the deuce court, take advantage when the ball breaks towards the center._

Sam has adjusted her ad court serves and Cosima suspects she’s trying to lull her into a false sense of security. It disrupts the strategy, but she still chooses to stand on the baseline. Sam would need to serve on the deuce court at least twice, Cosima thinks, which means that 15-0 can become 15-all, 30-15 can be 30-all, and 40-30 can go to deuce. At deuce, Sam went back to what works – a kick serve on the ad court, and Cosima read it so wonderfully that it results in an angled return. Sam nets her return. The scoreboard changes to 4-5.

_Defense pays off but don’t forget to be aggressive._

Stepping into her court more has worked in her return games, what would happen if she did it in her service games? Cosima took a deep breath before working to find out. With the wind still blowing and up 30-15, she decides to try something new - orchestrating a long rally, she waits for the opportunity to hit a deft forehand drop shot. The shot died in the wind on Sam’s side of the court. She then hits an ace – her first of the match. 5-5. She continues the aggressiveness in the next game, taking Sam by surprise and resulting in another break. 6-5.

_This is clay, Cosima – the returner’s favourite surface. Higher balls can fuck up timing. Remember that._

Cosima put some high balls into play in an attempt to make Sam move more. Her opponent takes the bait, and with the ball bouncing lower, Cosima has ample time to take advantage of the court she opened up. Her opponent is of course going to fight back and with the courage that can only come from the freedom of having nothing to lose, she saves a break point with audacious hitting from the back of the court, punctuating it with a double-handed backhand down the line. Cosima goes back to her service position, not even realizing that she has won the second set at 7-5.

By the time they got into the third set, Cosima felt lighter on court. She should be in the showers right now, trying to come up with something acceptable to say in her loser’s press conference. Focusing at one point at a time, Cosima can feel her opponent’s nerves on the other end of the court - something that, like the wind, she can capitalize on. Sam looked out of sorts, the doubts rearing its head on her serves and forehands.

With momentum on her side, Cosima moves like a gazelle on clay and in only 23 minutes in the decider, she finds herself coming to the net to shake hands with Sam. But unlike the scenario she had accepted when she was down 0-5, Cosima is emerging from Chatrier as the improbable winner, 3-6, 7-5, 6-2. “I got a little lucky,” she says during the on-court interview, “uhm...J'ai eu de la chance,” much to the delight of the crowd who for some surprising reason is cheering for an American.

She shares hugs with her team when she ducks out of Chatrier to head to the player’s lounge. Sarah couldn’t believe it. Felix had tears in his eyes. “I saw your note,” she says to Delphine, a sentiment that made the blonde blush. Cosima quickly goes to the locker room after, finding her favorite shower area – the farthest stall from the door near the janitor’s utility closet, available. She begins to cheerfully recite the periodic table, suddenly stopping at Antimony when the reality of her situation dawned on her.

“I’m all out of luck,” her voice reverberating off the warm tiles, the exhaustion too much for Cosima to even wish away the sentiment.

\----

**French Open 2014: After the Semifinals**

**June 5, 2014**

“Bonjour, let’s take questions in English first. Could you raise your hand and could you please - because we have a lot of people here – limit it to one question at time so we can accommodate everybody. ”

“You were phenomenal in those long rallies – you came on top time and time again, like it’s impossible to out-grind you. How did that make you feel and how are you now physically?”

“Well, I’ve got to tell you in those first two games I was really tired. Two long games in a row and I think by the third, fourth game I couldn’t play anymore so I lost them fast. She was really strong, she didn’t give up on points, and the rallies were very long and surprisingly very powerful as well so it was really tough. But I was actually prepared to go the distance against her and I just didn’t give up. I think this is one of my best victories on clay.”

“Your match today was a street fight. You were down a set and a break and were on the precipice of going down two breaks 0-4 in the second set. What lessons did you learn from this match that you can apply in the finals on Saturday?”

“I don’t want to focus on this match - it’s over anyway. I want to focus on what I can do better so I have a few things that I need to work on for Saturday. But at least I’m in the finals - I’ve been in this situation before, so maybe I’ve learned a thing or two about not putting too much pressure on myself and to try to enjoy it this time.”

“What are those things you want to do better?”

“I won’t tell you...it’s a conversation I will have with my coach.”

“You talk about being in this situation before, what does that say about you as a player and what does it say about you in terms of your development as a player and a person?”

“Well, as a player I can tell you that I have a better game on clay these past few years. I can play everywhere, on any surface, against anyone – that’s how I feel. It’s also good that I have more...plans - when I go on court and face an opponent, I’d know how to play against her because I know how to change some of the things that are not working. It’s funny because after this match, I spoke with my father on the phone and he told me that he never expected me to find success on Roland-Garros and this win is something that made him very proud...So that’s huge.”

“Maria, I don’t know if you read the papers or check the news but your opponent, Cosima Niehaus, has been hogging the spotlight lately not only because of her performance here but because of her personal relationship. As somebody who’s been in a similar situation, do you have any advice for her?”

“I don’t want to comment on her personal life – I’m not part of it in any way. But the intrusion comes with the territory, I guess. So maybe she just has to learn how to deal with it and tune it out. I kind of feel bad for her, but at the same time, I am here to win and I’m going to capitalize on whatever it is that would give me an edge.”

Sarah threw her salad in disgust and frustration, sullying the television’s screen with greens and dressing as the plastic container and fork landed on the living room floor. “It’s on me,” she mumbles as she fumbles for the remote, “I should have noticed that something's wrong,” and she finally turns off the offending television. Sarah feels that she was so focused on simplifying the game – of combing through data and video snippets to do the dirty, over-complicated work so that her charge wouldn’t have to - that she didn’t notice that Cosima seems to have lost whatever faith she had in her game after the Stosur match. No amount of strategizing can make up for that absence.

“We can only do so much,” Felix replies as he puts his feet up on the coffee table. “In the end it’s up to her...”

“I don’t get it,” Delphine says from the kitchen, “she said she feels for Cosima, but she’s also using it to her advantage. It’s schadenfreude, non? You know - le malheur des uns, fait le bonheur des autres. Happiness at the misfortune of others,” she translates in English when both coach and physio scrunched their eyebrows. “Most of the other players who were asked about it either said no comment or showed support.”

“Well that’s Sharapova for you,” Sarah reacts, “she’s cutthroat like that...And now I’m hungry,” suddenly regretting wasting the 15 Euro salad and joining Delphine in the kitchen to cook something. “One day she’s going to need the support of her fellow players and nobody’s going to be there for her.”

“Hey, what are you making?” Felix asks as he watches Sarah grab some eggs and a mixing bowl. “Brinner? I want in on it.”

“Well go get your ass in here and help,” his sister says as Delphine slices the bread.

They were working quietly in the kitchen: Delphine's garnishing the French toast, Sarah’s making eggs, and Felix was separating bacon strips and putting them on the frying pan, when the main door opened.

“Somebody’s been eating healthy,” Cosima can only manage a small chuckle as she points to the TV. It was the only greeting she can muster as she puts down her bags, joins them in the kitchen, and slides into the bench seat by the dining table. She wanted to be left alone in the stadium after the loss, just like what she did in New York last year. From the kitchen counter, Delphine eyes her closely - unsure of what the American is feeling but afraid to ask. She settles for setting a plate of French toast in front of her with Cosima saying thanks but quickly avoiding her gaze. Pretty soon, the eggs and bacon are ready and they’re all by the table eating silently.

“Okay, family meeting...” Cosima breaks the ice and Delphine notices that she has hardly touched her food. “It’s a tough day, we couldn’t win – I was ahead for most of the time...But,” and she shrugs as her voice breaks, “let’s keep working...and let’s believe...Maybe I...just wasn’t ready to win today.” She took one bite of the toast and the eggs before standing up, “I’m gonna be in my room,” silencing whatever reaction or question they may have.

\----- 

**June 6, 2014**

“You sure you’re not coming with us, blondie?” Felix quips as he finishes putting on makeup. “She’ll hole up for hours like yesterday – she won’t even notice you aren’t here."

“Yes, I’m staying,” Delphine says as she finally wipes the dressing off the TV screen that has dried up after a day. “I’d want to be here when she comes around.”

“Suit yourself,” and Sarah wears her black leather jacket and ties her hair. “We’ll be here,” she says as she jots down the name and address of where they’re going, “ ‘case you change your mind and want to see a bit of Paris before we leave tomorrow.”

“Don’t wait up for us,” and with Felix pocketing the keys, they were gone.

Delphine takes a deep breath, unaware of what to do now but sure in her decision to stay behind. Against Sarah’s advice to give Cosima space, she went to their room last night hoping to comfort her. She was already asleep when she got in and though Cosima didn’t resist when she pulled her in for a cuddle, Delphine can feel that she’s being distant. She wasn’t surprised to find herself alone in the bed when she woke up this morning, with Sarah informing her that Cosima had holed up in one of the other rooms in the house. “Don’t take it too personally,” she said after giving her a cup of coffee. She only left the room once to wordlessly get a baguette and a jar of peanut butter from the kitchen.

She decides to keep herself busy by washing dishes, sneaking in quick cigarette breaks, and packing her suitcase. With nothing left to do but wait for Cosima to initiate a conversation, she went back downstairs and poured herself a glass of wine – all while listening for any signs of movement from upstairs. She was nestled in the couch while she studied a script for a part she just got an audition for when exhaustion finally got to her and she dozed off. Delphine didn’t know how much time had passed, but by the time she opened her eyes again, a figure in a flamboyantly-patterned poncho was already hovered by the dining table, looking at her while sipping tea.

“What time is it?” Delphine asks, still disoriented from the prolonged nap as she runs fingers through her hair.

“Almost 12,” Cosima says in a voice so devoid of any emotions that Delphine wouldn’t recognize it if they weren’t alone together.

Delphine wrapped the throw around her as she stood up to join Cosima after grabbing a mug from the kitchen. “How are you feeling?” She asks as she sits next to her, only for Cosima to flinch and move inches away from her.

“I’m fine, you don’t need to mother me,” she answers dismissively. “I’m used to losing...It comes with the job.” It’s hard to miss the condescension in her tone, but Delphine chooses to disregard it - it was a painful defeat and Cosima has every right to sulk and be pissed.

“Sarah and Felix left a few hours ago,” she chooses to say instead, “are you hungry? I can make you something...”

Cosima tightens her grip on her mug, “I’m fine,” she reiterates without even hiding her annoyance, “you can go back to your script...wouldn’t want you to tank in front of Martial,” she mutters as she stands up to go back to the room with her mug.

“What?”

“I’ve always wondered when you’re gonna tell me about Martial and Sandwich Board...If you even planned on telling me to be honest,” she sarcastically smirks as she sets down the cup on the table.

“I wanted to tell you,” Delphine says, taken aback by the surprise inquisition. “I was waiting for the right time...maybe after this tournament when we’re allowed to talk about things again or -”

“Oh don’t put this on me,” Cosima’s voice gains venom, “you’ve known since Prague. You could have told me then and I could have dealt with it then. It would have been one less thing to worry about this week...”

Cosima mumbled the last sentence, but it wasn’t lost on Delphine that she is out to pick a quarrel. “I’m sorry that you had to deal with it this week. That you had to deal with me this week... That you had to deal with us this week...”

“I...I...never said that!” Cosima shouts, but turns her back on Delphine as she picks up on her aborted journey upstairs. “You’re putting words in my mouth!”

“But that’s what you feel, right?” Delphine snaps back, looking up at Cosima on the stairs. “That’s why you’re picking a fight...That’s why you’ve been distant. That’s why you choose to lock yourself in a room. Because in your head you’re thinking if you remove me and all the baggage I bring in the equation, you could be on court playing the finals tomorrow. That’s what’s in your head, right?” She suspected as much when she caught Cosima’s quarterfinal match on replay - the origin of what she said before the second set isn’t lost on her.

The deafening silence that met her words is the only confirmation she needs from Cosima. “As payment for all the hassles I caused you this week, I’ll make this very easy for you.”

Delphine felt as if she was having an out-of-body experience from when she passed Cosima on the stairs to put on a dependable coat and grab her purse from their room, to the moment she opened the front door and lit a cigarette. The entire time, she could see Cosima wordlessly looking on, hesitating to approach her when she finally opened the wooden gate separating the house from the outside world.

She turned around before leaving - knowing that one small noise from Cosima will make her decide to go back. The brunette, looking small, could only cast her stare to the ground. Delphine couldn’t shake off the image as she aimlessly walks farther away from the house in Boulogne-Billancourt, her tears flowing at the thought that that may as well be the last memory she would have of Cosima.

\-----

**June 7, 2014**

“Delphine?” Sarah huffs over the phone, the persistent ringing disturbed her busy day of staying in bed all day. “Where did you and Cos run off to? Did you forget we have a train to catch later?”

What Sarah said made her sit up. “We...We’re not together,” she answers, unsure if the statement is just literal.

“The fuck? She isn’t here, Delphine...”

“What do you mean she isn’t there?”

“We thought you two were asleep when we got back around four,” Sarah explains. Delphine can tell from the clarity of the coach's words that whatever hangover she may have seems to have been washed away by the emergency. “We woke up, checked the other bedroom and Cos wasn’t there. We went to your room, you two weren’t there. We thought you two legged it last night...You sure she isn’t under the covers with you?”

“I’d be very surprised if she is,” Delphine says, “I am in a very small room. Have you tried calling her phone?”

“She left it here, her passport too...Fe!!! Cos isn’t with Delphine!”

“You owe me 20 Euros!” Delphine hears Felix say in the background.

“What? 20 Euros?”

“It’s a story for later. Come on, we got to look for her. We’ll start here and you start wherever you are...Which is also a story for later, I suppose. Call us if you have anything.” Delphine could hear Sarah coming down the stairs and rummaging for the keys at the tail-end of the call. 

“Yes, okay...call me if you have news too.” She plugs her phone and hurriedly grabs last night's clothes hanging in a mini-rack. She dresses quickly and makes the very short trip to the bathroom separated from the bed by only a half wall. Delphine washes her face and the remnants of her fitful sleep before opening the complimentary dental kit. “Cosima...cherie...” She talks to the reflection on the small mirror, “Où peux-tu bien être?” 

It's a question she silently asked herself as she grabs her purse and her key card to look for Cosima, the regret of matching anger with anger last night sinking in with every step towards the streets of Paris.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apart from my usual thanks, I would like to wish and hope that you are all well and safe wherever you are. We're living in interesting times and even the healthiest people can get sick, so don't forget to wash your hands, drink vitamins, and seek medical help if you are not feeling well.
> 
> A very special mention and thanks to Mon Amie Corsan for the lively discussions and for her big help with this chapter. :)


	21. Picking up the Pieces

**June 7, 2014**

" Bloody fantastic," _ _ Sarah mutters as she puts her phone in the back pocket of her jeans. She hoped for a simpler problem this morning, an issue that her alcohol-laden mind can parse. Something along the lines of Cosima holing up in her room or Delphine looking like a sad puppy every time her girlfriend wordlessly passes her by. But Cosima missing with her girlfriend having no idea where she could be, and the possibility of missing their train to London tonight are just too much - and it’s barely past lunch. 

Rubbing her forehead with her palm, she dry swallows an aspirin without even bothering to walk to the kitchen for a glass of water. If she’s being honest with herself, she doesn’t give a crap about missing the train – there are several of them leaving hourly for London the next day and it would be easy to exchange their tickets. The main source of Sarah’s headache right now is the weird sense of disconnection. Since becoming Cosima’s coach, this is the first time that Sarah felt that she didn’t know what to do to help her win; the first time she couldn’t figure out what’s in her head.  And if she can’t figure those things out, how is she going to be able to give Cosima the headspace she needs? Why is she even here? Maybe Cosima can use a new voice in her camp. 

“Everything’s still pretty much in there,” Felix says to her as he comes down the stairs, “except for her tournament I.D. and her wallet.” He grabs Sarah’s leather jacket for her – but not before rummaging in the pockets for a rumpled 20 Euro bill.

“Like clockwork I see,” Sarah says with a grin that is part-amused, part-irritated.

“Well, a bet’s a bet, dear sister,” Felix says with a smirk. “Besides, I’d need the loose change for tea and baguettes while waiting for our train later. So what’s the plan? Wherever Cos ran off to, she probably got there on foot…”

“Just stay here and wait by the phone,” Sarah instructs, plucking the cordless landline from the side table and tossing it to her brother. “And pack our bags while you’re at it. I’m gonna go to the complex and check.”

“And what about Delphine?” Felix says as he folds the bill and puts it in his pocket, “where is she anyway?”

“I don’t know, somewhere near here I guess,” Sarah answers as she wears the jacket, “but we’ll keep each other posted while we look.”

“You don’t think…” Felix begins to ask with a shot of worry for a change, “Cosima is out there fucking away the pain like she did in New York?”

“Nah,” Sarah says with a shake of her head, “I think she’s too whipped to screw up what she has that simply…” And she runs a hand through her messy hair. “The way those two love each other…they’re meant to fuck each other up in their own special, long-term ways…”

“Speaking from personal experience I see,” Felix retorts.

“Yeah, yeah, fuck you,” Sarah could only smirk at the jab that has a tinge of truth. “Hold the fort for now, yeah? I’ll call when I have something.”

They didn’t have many clues to work with apart from the things Cosima brought in her excursion to the unknown. Her passport is still in the room: the cream-colored neck pouch housing it hangs on the doorknob, so at least they know that Cosima didn’t fly out to God knows where. She changed clothes before she left based on the missing coat by the foot of the bed, and the joggers and the lucky San Francisco shirt tossed on the floor. She brought her tournament ID with her so it’s logical for Sarah to check the Roland-Garros grounds for any sign of her ward.

Hailing a taxi and getting to the tennis complex in less than 10 minutes, Sarah immediately went to the underbelly of Court Philippe Chatrier where the player’s services department is located. Relieved that there are fewer people here now that the tournament is only a few finals matches from concluding, Sarah immediately approaches the concierge.

“Mate,” and Sarah whips out her own tournament ID from the inner pocket of her jacket, “have you seen Cosima Niehaus around here?”

The concierge - “ _ Jacques _ ” says his name badge - gives Sarah a quizzical look before quickly reverting back to his professional but cheerful demeanor. “I am sorry, but I haven’t seen Mademoiselle Niehaus today,” he says. “I can put in a word to the people working on the grounds and in the locker rooms if you wish…”

“No, no,” Sarah says fumbling for her phone from her jeans, “I’ll take a look around then come back here to take you up on the offer ‘case I don’t see her. Thanks, Mate.” She made sure she was out of the concierge’s ear shot when she tapped on Delphine’s number on her phone.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up…” Sarah mumbles, no longer able to hide the worry with a straight face or a wisecrack now that she’s alone.

\-----

Felix is right, Delphine thinks as she makes her way to a restaurant that she remembered Cosima talking about during their first days together in Paris. This is a hare-brained scheme. When he called her to tell her that Sarah went looking for Cosima at the stadium, he couldn’t help but ask where she plans to look.

“I am…” She stammered, “going to the restaurants and cafes she mentioned to me.” Delphine knew she was grasping at straws but she had to start somewhere.

“Well it’s something,” Felix answered, unconvinced. He already called their usual restaurant and the owner said that they didn't see Cosima last night or today. “I’ll call you when we know anything…”

“Felix?”

“Yeah?”

“20 Euros? What is it about?” Her voice sounded desperate and she wasn’t even sure if she wanted to know the story behind it. But there it was, out in the open and waiting for Felix’s explanation.

“We made a bet,” Felix said in a voice that – if Delphine was over-thinking - had a touch of regret, even shame, “that you two would have a nasty fight. Sarah bet it was going to happen in London. And I bet it was going to happen in Paris. Sorry…”

“It’s okay,” Delphine said, “I would have wanted a piece of the action if you gave me good odds…”

What she said made Felix laugh. “If it helps, we both thought that you two would make up right after…that we would have come home to clothes strewn all over the living room. Anyway, you take care yeah? And call.” 

She reaches the restaurant that Cosima said is one of her favorites. “One of these days,” she remembered the American saying, “I’m going to take you out on a very Parisian date there.” The memory, while sweet, seems so far away now after everything that happened.

The restaurant located at the ground floor of a six-story brick building in Rue d'Alleray is very French with its aged but refined wood French doors and glass windows. She allows herself to imagine the promised dinner date – the merlot, the cigarettes, Cosima wishing she can smoke pot, Cosima promising she’s going to get her baked one day, the eggplant rolls with goat cheese that her girlfriend says she still dreams about, sharing a kiss over dinner, walking hand-in-hand after. It was all so promising until last night. 

From the looks of it, the restaurant that held the promise of a dinner date is closed. Delphine peers through one of the glass windows and knocks when she sees a person replacing table linens. Speaking in French - even if it’s Quebecois French and not Parisian French - came in handy as the busboy tells her that on Saturdays, they’re only open for dinner service and that there was a private event last night. There is no way Cosima could have been here at any time since they last saw each other.

Getting into another cab, Delphine clears her head as she tries to remember where else Cosima could have gone. There are three restaurants she can think of apart from the café where they dined daily since the start of her tournament. She was telling the driver to head to Boulogne, specifically in a fresh seafood restaurant in Rue du Vieux Pont de Sèvres, when her phone rings.

“Tell me you have good news,” Delphine answers with nary a hello.

“I just talked to the concierge at player services,” Sarah huffs, “he hasn’t seen her. I’m looking around the complex, maybe she’s here somewhere. She brought her Roland-Garros ID with her, so yeah. How about you? Anything?”

“No, nothing,” she breathes out. “I’m making my way back to Boulogne, there are cafes and restaurants there that she talked about. Sorry I don’t have anything better to work with…”

“Hey,” Sarah interjects, “we’re doing our level-best here. Go and look. If she isn’t here, I’m going to ask the concierge to look for her…and if she still doesn’t show up, I’d have to ask Rachel for help. But one way or another we’re going to find her, okay?”

After weaving out of city traffic, Delphine arrives back at Boulogne – at the fish restaurant only 10 minutes away from the house she shared with Cosima and her team. Unlike the Parisian bistro, the restaurant is bustling with activity, with patrons buying shellfish and King Crabs by the gram and asking it to be deliciously cooked. She looks inside the restaurant and in the Al fresco dining area, hoping for a sight of dreadlocks. Her heart sinks when all she sees are unfamiliar faces.

“Veuillez m'excuser , ” Delphine approaches the sitting hostess, “ Mais est-ce que Cosima Niehaus ,” and she shows her a photo of her girlfriend on her phone, “ serait passée par ici entre hier et aujourd’hui? ”

“Co-si-ma!” The hostess says with a look of recognition. “ Non, elle n’a pas mangé ici ni hier ni aujourd’hui. Je suis désolée, Mademoiselle Cormier. ”

She isn’t sure if public recognition would help her find Cosima faster. But still, she thanks the hostess and begins to walk south of the fish restaurant to another place she remembered Cosima and Felix talking about. Cosima had heard so much of this café, Delphine remembers, and if only they could break superstition they would have eaten there instead of the unassuming restaurant near the rented house. 

After 10 minutes of brisk walking, Delphine lands at the doors of the restaurant. A waiter who sees her looking through the open door approaches her and explains in heavily-accented English that they are closed today for a private event. She saw his sigh of relief when she began to speak in French to ask him the same question she had asked the hostess earlier.

“Est-ce que la joueuse de tennis, Cosima Niehaus, est passée hier soir?”

The waiter hurriedly calls another man into the conversation, explaining to Delphine that he wasn’t at work last night but that Henri, the man in casual wear with a backpack slung on his shoulders, was the head waiter for the dinner service. She shows him a photo – pointing out Cosima in the group shot of them with Sarah and Felix taken during her first night at the house, and he smiles which made Delphine hopeful. 

“Eux,  Ils étaient là hier soir, ” Henri supplies, but much to Delphine’s disappointment, Henri pointed at Sarah and Felix instead of Cosima. “ Des touristes britanniques… on a eu de très bons pourboires ,” he adds. She nods, thanks the men for their attempts to help before flagging another cab to get to the last restaurant. She simmers in worry on the backseat, knowing that she’s out of leads if this last stop doesn’t yield anything.

Saving the best for last is the thought that pops into Delphine’s mind as the cab reaches the last restaurant. She wasn’t supposed to know about this place, but she overheard Cosima making a phone call to reserve a table here for two. It was a surprise, she thought, and they were supposed to go before the second week of Roland-Garros started. But with everything boiling over, surprise dinner plans had to be shelved – much to her disappointment even if she understands. 

She smiles and looks around her, at the lake surrounding the restaurant, the lush greenery on the walkways, and the red tables and chairs by the dock. She couldn’t help imagining how magical this place would look during winter. The scenery momentarily makes her forget about worrying over Cosima for in her imaginings, Cosima is right there beside her, holding her hand with that grin loaded with cuteness and mischief. 

“ Vous devez prendre la barque ,” the cab driver says, snapping the imaginings away. “ Le restaurant est au milieu du lac, sur le sud de l’île”

Another lake in another country - just like in Prague, just like in Montreal, Delphine thinks. They’re not yet finished; last night couldn’t be the end of their story.

She only meant to look for Cosima in the restaurant and ponder as she leaves if she isn’t there where to go next – maybe she could meet up with Sarah at Roland-Garros. But in the middle of the short water taxi ride to the chateau, Delphine’s stomach grumbles in protest. She couldn’t remember the last time she ate and when she alighted from the boat, the smell of risotto and sea bass were enough to whet her appetite. The restaurant isn’t brimming with people and she easily gets a small table where she ordered the lunch menu. She looks around, hoping to spot Cosima and she even asked her waitress if she had seen her any time today. When the waitress said no, Delphine figured she could have a quick bite before restarting her search. After all, she’d be of no use if she faints from hunger.

As she quickly partakes on the veal piccata with herbed pumpkins, her phone rings. 

“Sarah? Please tell me you’ve found her,” she says her ear to the phone.

“Non, Delphy,  C’est ta Maman ,” and Delphine quickly takes a look at her phone’s screen. She was tempted to say she’s a bit preoccupied right now but Suzanne Cormier beat her to the punch.

“I was just calling to ask you to tell Cosima that I just got her recent postcard.”

“Postcard?” Delphine asks, trying to mask the surprise.

“Oui,” Suzanne says, “she sends me a postcard for every place where she plays,” and Delphine can hear rustles of cards from the other end of the line. “ J’en ai reçu de Sydney, Melbourne, Cleveland, Doha, Dubai, Indian Wells, Miami, Prague, Stuttgart, Madrid, Rome,  et là je viens d’en recevoir une de Paris .”

“Ahh,” and Delphine grapples with the mixed emotions – Cosima’s sweetness towards her Maman mixing with the things the brunette said last night and the fact that Delphine doesn’t know where she is now.

“I text her when I get it and she usually replies, but she isn’t replying now so please tell her thank you.” Delphine didn’t expect the tears rolling from her eyes and the sob coming out from her lips.

“ Qu’est ce qu’il se passe, ma fille ?” Suzanne worriedly asks. 

Normally, Delphine doesn’t clue her Maman in about her love life, content in giving her a general idea of how things are going in her relationship. But the worry about where Cosima could be and what she could be doing, proved to be too much to be concealed. Suzanne silently listens as she recounts the events of last night – the argument, what brought it on, what happened after, and the problem they have on hand now. The waitress, who brought the grilled squid main course, gives her a look of concern before setting the plate and leaving her alone in her misery. With a palm on her mouth to suppress her sobs, her Maman begins to talk.

“Delphy,” Suzanne says, “you know what I like about your relationship with Cosima? It’s not the glamour or the prestige of it. It’s the fact that over a short period of time, you two seem to have shared so much of each other with each other.  Est-ce que tu comprends ce que j’essaye de t’expliquer ? ”

“ Un peu ,” Delphine says in between sniffles.

“I was with your Papa for years and we never shared as much of each other as you two do. So go back to all those things you shared together – the letters, little messages, conversations – and try to figure out where she could be.  Essaye, ma fille .”

Letters, little messages, and conversations - Delphine processes her Maman’s words and a germ of an idea begins to flicker in her mind. Sometimes, mothers do know best.

After ending her phone call with Suzanne with an I love you, she proceeds to look at her mail’s inbox, searching for a particular letter Cosima sent before the U.S. Open last year. When she finds the message, she quickly takes a screenshot of it before calling Sarah.

“Yeah? Tell me you have good news – I just asked the concierge to look for her and I am this close to eating shit and calling Rachel for help.”

“I think I know where she is,” Delphine says as she takes some money from her purse to pay for her half-eaten meal. “I’m going now. I’ll call you from there.”

\----- 

Her parents, three ex-girlfriends, an ill-advised ex-boyfriend, several almost-partners, and Sarah can attest to the fact that Cosima can sleep off any problem. Whenever things get bad on court or in life, the anger and the frustration would always tire her out and lead her to sleep. It’s an unhealthy coping mechanism, Cosima knows as much, after all the issues and problems are still there when she wakes up. But at least she’s well-rested the next day, with a full bar of energy to deal with the problem or wish it away.

When Delphine walked out of the house, Cosima wanted to run after her, hold her tight, and say don’t leave me. What stopped her is the very real possibility that Delphine would – that one word, one touch, one tear from her eyes would make Delphine let go of her anger (an anger that Cosima deserves) and go back inside the house. Forgiveness will eventually follow suit – a forgiveness that Cosima knows she doesn’t deserve. So she let her go amidst tears that pooled around the frames of her glasses and did what she does best - sleep it off. Maybe tomorrow, she can look at herself in the mirror and not feel so petty and small.

Only there was minimal sleeping that night. Cosima would doze off for an hour or two only to wake up in sobs and sweats. When she woke up for the nth time after Delphine left, she heard Sarah and Felix’s drunk footsteps on the stairs. At the sound of their doors closing, she got up to dress, intent on looking for Delphine in every hotel within the vicinity. But she will forgive her when she finds her; she would hold her in her arms and tell her that things will be fine. It was too easy after what she had said, after what she had thought, after what she had insinuated. She didn’t deserve her forgiveness – not last night, not in the morning after. 

Maybe she should call someone. Checking the time – a little past 5 in the morning, she could call her parents – it’s just a little past dinner in Berkeley. She was about to do so, but she changed her mind before the other line rang. They already have a lot on their plate and they didn’t need to deal with her ramblings about her failures.

Maybe she could talk to someone. Sarah just got home and knowing her, she probably called Siobhan and Kira (trying to mask her drunkenness of course) before hitting the deck. She was about to walk down the hallway and knock, but didn’t. Her coach has gone above and beyond the call of duty just so she could win and in return, she lost to Sharapova, allowing the enormity of the occasion to get to her. She wasted all of Sarah’s hard work and planning. How could she talk to her and not think about that?

With the sun almost up, she picked up her I.D. and her wallet. Maybe a quiet walk around the neighborhood was what she needed.

She gently closed the door and the gate. Once outside, she had no destination in mind and was only focused on putting one foot in front of the other. When she got hungry, she bought pastries and a cup of tea from a bakery. A lot of things played in her mind as she walked: Delphine, her choke job against Sharapova, the tabloids, the press, the expectations, the disappointments. She kept her head down as she walked the streets of Boulogne – the last thing she wanted was attention.

But it was the morning of the women’s finals and the streets were filled with enthusiastic tennis fans either making their way to Court Philippe Chatrier or to cafes or bars to watch. Her futile attempt at keeping a low profile was rewarded by a string of people shoving tennis balls and pens her way. Most asked for a photo to go with the autograph and while she obliged with a smile on her face, on the inside she was drowning in her whirling thoughts and in the undeserved adoration. She needed to get away and she could only think of one place to go to where she could let it all out.

\-----

_ From: conima.seahouse@gmail.com _

_ To: dcorm10@icloud.com _

_ Subject: Re: New Question Thread (because the first thread got too big and long) _

_ Date: August 16, 2013 _

_ I have to be honest - your latest question is probably one of the hardest ones you ever threw my way. It was the first time I went back and forth with a reply, typing something then erasing it and so on and so forth. It got me stumped and I don’t get stumped. You really are something else, aren’t you Ms. Cormier?  _

_ So when did I know for certain that I’m good at tennis? When did it sink in? There are actually two answers to that question – a current answer and an answer from years ago.  _

_ Currently, I don’t know if I’m any good at tennis. Wait! Before you say I’m selling myself short, hear me out. A healthy dose of skepticism always does wonders for my work ethic and for my game. I don’t know if I’m any good, so I’m going to train harder. I don’t know if I’m any good so I’m going to learn how to use drop shots in rallies. I don’t know if I’m any good so I’m going to compete my heart out against girls who are taller and stronger than me. Do you get what I’m saying? Doubts keep me sharp (or at least that’s my excuse hahaha). _

_ As for the other answer, years ago when I won the French Open Girls’ title, everybody – the press, the USTA, coaches - was saying that I have the ingredients to win slams in a few years. I took it with a grain of salt - I can’t be that good, I’m short. But the day after I won, I was walking around the complex and this guard, Donatien, stationed in the gardens by the court stopped me. He said that he just wanted to introduce himself to me before I become a French Open Champion and a tennis superstar. I was shocked – this random person thinks I could be that good at tennis. So I started to believe that maybe I could be. He still works there and I visit him at the gardens when I can, just to show him how wrong he was all those years ago. Donnie and I have a laugh about it over a cup of coffee.  _

_ When did you know that you are a good actor? (Now you’re going to have a hard time ;) ) _

Delphine reads the message again during the water taxi ride back to the dock. A quick Google search for ‘gardens beside French Open court’ gave her the exact name of the place Cosima wrote about 10 months ago.

“ Jardin des Serres d’Auteuil, S’il vous plaît, Aussi vite que vous le pouvez ,” she says to the taxi driver.

“Mademoiselle,” the driver says, “Les Serres sont fermées au public aujourd’hui, la finale Dames est en train de se jouer. Je vous recommande plutôt les Buttes Chaumont ou le Parc Monceau si vous voulez aller au vert...” Delphine shot him a dagger look and with a shrug that says ‘ _ fine, you’re the boss’ _ , the driver sped off.

She nervously looks at her watch as they drive along a boulevard and an avenue. Her gut tells her that Cosima is at the gardens – or at least she was there sometime today. From there, she could ask around about her, meet up with Sarah, and they can look for her together. Delphine knew that Sarah was in the tennis complex and that she could have just told her where she thinks Cosima might be. But more than anything, she wanted to be the one to find her first. 

The driver stops at Avenue Gordon Bennett. “ C’est le seul accès qui ne soit pas fermé, mais il y a un gardien. Je doute qu’il vous laisse passer,”” he says condescendingly as Delphine pays the fare. She crossed the street and sure enough, there’s a middle-aged, portly man with salt-and-pepper hair standing guard by the entrance. Delphine smiles when she catches sight of the guard’s name tag:  _ D. Fournier. _

“ Excusez-moi, Monsieur ,” and the guard tried to subtly look at her, but Delphine knew by the way his eyes went a bit wide that he recognized her. “ Vous êtes bien Donatien? ”

He nods. “ Les Serres sont fermées, Mademoiselle. Je ne peux pas vous laisser passer .”

“ Mais elle est bien ici? Cosima? ” He tries to look unaffected, tries to not give anything away, but a small smirk from his lips confirms her hunch.  “ Je vous en prie, Donnie, ” Delphine pleads, “ Pouvez-vous me laissez entrer? Je dois lui parler. Je dois absolument lui dire quelque chose … S’il vous plaît. ”

Letting out a deep breath, Donnie side steps so that his back is facing the gate’s handle. Using the hands behind his back, he opens the gate. “ Elle est dans le Palmarium ,” he whispers. 

In her relief, Delphine gives Donnie a peck on the cheek. “ Merci, Monsieur Fournier, Je vous remercie… ”

As the taxi driver said, the Gardens are empty today. But Delphine can imagine that it attracts a lot of foot traffic being so close to a Metro Station. As her sneakers crunch the white pebbles that line the walkways to the Palmarium Greenhouse, she can picture both tourists and locals taking a load off on the park benches or on the lawn furniture darting the greenhouses. If she ends up getting the part in this French film she just got an audition for, Delphine promises to go back here and enjoy a quiet cup of coffee or two. It’s a weird thought to have now, but it is beautiful here, she thinks.

She fires a quick text to Sarah when she reaches the entrance to the Palmarium, telling her about the garden but asking her to just wait for them. When she replied in the affirmative, she quietly opens the greenhouse’s steel and glass door and lets herself in. She both knew and didn’t know what to expect once inside. She knew it would be hot so a few steps from the door, she removes the blue polo shirt she had been using as a thin jacket. She wanted to get a layout of the greenhouse to know where to look but as she glanced to her left, Delphine realizes that she didn’t need to search any further because there it is – the head of dreadlocks she had been searching for in the last three hours or so.

Cosima’s sitting on an aged, white garden chair with a cup of coffee resting on a similarly-colored lawn table. She approaches her slowly, unsure of how the brunette will react to her presence in her sacred sanctuary. When dark brown eyes looked her way, she’s surprised by the softness and vulnerability of Cosima’s gaze. It was the same look she gave her that day she took a flight to Toronto from Prague. Eyes that convey four simple words –  _ Please don’t leave me.  _

“May I?” Delphine asks softly as she reaches the empty chair beside Cosima. The brunette nods meekly and Delphine lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding in. 

There were no words spoken for minutes that felt like eons, the silence in the Palmarium only disturbed by the noise from the nearby tennis court. It took Delphine a few minutes to realize that what they’re hearing is the women’s finals match. That every clap and every cheer reverberating in the greenhouse was supposed to be for Cosima’s aborted crowning moment.

“I think Sharapova is winning,” Cosima says when she notices Delphine realizing the event they’re hearing. “You want to hear something sad?” She adds and Delphine sympathetically nods.

“Last night after you left, I slept,” Cosima begins, “it was a short sleep, but I dreamed of the Sharapova match. And you know what, in the dream I lost. Even in my dreams, I lose…” 

A single tear escapes from Cosima’s eyes and suddenly, the things said last night do not seem to matter now as Delphine does the only thing she can think of – wipe away the tear with the back of her fingers. She was relieved when Cosima leaned into her touch.

“You know what’s sadder?” Cosima says in between sobs, “when I woke up you weren’t there. And that’s when it really hit me – how royally I fucked everything up. What happened was supposed to make us stronger, but I let the stress of the tournament and the expectations get in the way. And I hurt you when all you’re trying to do was help.”

Delphine puts a stop to Cosima’s self-destructive thoughts by coming forward and kissing her lovingly on the cheek. It was a soft kiss that meant to comfort, that meant to silence the demons. But after hours of worriedly looking for her and with the brunette so close now, she couldn’t help but kiss her senseless. 

“I’ve been selfish for the longest time,” Cosima says after, while their foreheads rest against each other. “It’s what tennis needs me to be,” she explains as she pulls away but not without gripping the side of Delphine’s shirt. “For years, all I really cared about was what’s good for my game…And this, you in my life, for the first time I have someone I care more about than the game. And it scared me…It still scares me, Delphine. But that has nothing on the fear of this morning, of never waking up beside you ever again.” She lets Cosima cry, holding her tight as the tears dampen her shoulders. “I’m still getting used to sharing myself with you…” Cosima says. “I’m trying, I really am…And I hope to god you don’t get rid of me before I get the hang of it.”

It was Delphine’s turn to pull away but not without cradling Cosima’s face on her palms. “Mon Amour,” she says after another kiss on the cheek, “I can promise you two things here...I will hold your hand even when it’s cold,” and she entwines her hand with Cosima’s, “and I will love you even when you seem to hate.”

And this time, it’s Cosima who closes the distance and pulls the blonde into a searing kiss. “I love you, Delphine.”

“I love you too, Cosima,” and wrapped in each other’s arms, it became easy to disregard the noise outside - the oohs, the aahs, and the applause from a packed tennis stadium seems so far away now that they’re so close to each other. Their collective breaths have become relaxed when a loud banging from outside startled them both.

“Oi, you two! I’m just gonna wait here until you’re ready to come out!” Sarah announces. 

“Good timing as always,” Cosima mutters.

“Hey I heard that!” Sarah retorts. “I shoulda known you’d be here – I just didn’t know you were that tight with Donnie that he’ll let you in here during the finals.”

“Maybe we should come out,” Cosima says to Delphine, wiping her tears with the sleeve of her shirt, “we do have a train to catch.”

“About that,” Delphine bites her lower lip, “I think I need to stay a few more days here in Paris. I got an audition for a film – it was the script I was reading yesterday. It’s a huge French production.”

“Wow!” Cosima exclaims. “What’s the part?”

“It’s for a Marie Curie biopic,” Delphine says, which got Cosima even more excited, “I’m up for the part of one of her daughters, Eve Curie. The audition is this Tuesday.”

“Can I ask you one thing?” Cosima says as they stand up and walk the short distance from the table to the door.

“What is it?” And Delphine laces her arm around Cosima’s.

“Do you need someone to run lines with you?”

Delphine once again places a lingering kiss on the brunette’s cheek. “I would love that.”

\----

Cosima only understood a few things from the conversation in hurried French between Delphine and the woman in the front desk: all double rooms are occupied until  _ Lundi _ ; Delphine is staying in a room for one; and they have to charge her a fee because another person is going to stay in it. She wanted to tell Delphine that they can check out of this hotel, go to another one and stay in a bigger room, but her girlfriend seems to be intent on staying here – and with their reconciliation only a couple of hours old, disagreeing with the blonde is at the very bottom of Cosima’s to-do list.

Felix and Sarah are now on the evening train to London along with all her gear and most of their stuff, which is why they each only have a backpack’s worth of clothes and essentials. It’s a wise choice because there isn’t much common space inside the single room on the fourth floor. Besides, their luggage wouldn’t fit into the small elevator that got them up here.

Tiny as it is, Cosima cannot find it in her heart to complain or even joke about it. Always encumbered by sporting gear and months’ worth of clothes, it feels liberating for her to be travelling light for a change. And there’s not much to complain about the room really: there’s a good-sized window that lets in a good amount of natural light and the bed is a good-sized double - perfect for snuggling but not too small to be cramped and uncomfortable.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Delphine says with a tight and tired smile after setting her backpack below the small floating bedside table on the left side of the bed – her usual side of any bed they share.

Those were the first words she said to her since leaving the greenhouse. In the cab ride back to the rented house, Sarah talked her ear off about how worried they all were about her. Cosima apologized while stealing glances at Delphine, who stared out the window the entire time. When they arrived at the house, Delphine gave her a comforting but tentative peck on the cheek before leaving her alone in the living room to face Felix’s wrath. She was already downstairs with her bag when she went up to the room to pack.

Cosima knew that an afternoon’s worth of explanation for the way she behaved wouldn’t be enough to make Delphine forgive her for the things she said and the way she reacted - that what she said inside the Palmarium was only the beginning of making it up to her. Taking a risk, she closes the curtain and strips off her clothes. She walks towards the open bathroom and sees the shower - a small enclosure that would be a tight squeeze for two people. She didn’t let the size stop her from what she plans on doing.

“Cosima?” A surprised Delphine asks while massaging her scalp with her fingers.

Cosima wordlessly enters the stall and envelops Delphine in a hug. “I’m sorry.”

“I was so worried,” Delphine sighs, returning the hug, albeit not as enthusiastic as Cosima would have liked. “I thought I lost you…”

“I’m sorry,” she says again, kissing Delphine on her chest, on her neck, “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” and Delphine kisses the top of Cosima’s head, “for not telling you about Sandwich Board…”

“No, you don’t have to apologize for that,” and to prove her point, she kneels in front of the blonde, trailing kisses along the short way down. She waited for a sign that Delphine wanted her to proceed. It started with a twist of the knob to turn the shower off; followed by a breathy “Please”; then a hand holding her head, directing where to kiss, what to stoke; resulting to a moan and a squeaky “Cosima”; and punctuated by a quiet “I love you” when Delphine came in Cosima's mouth.

It was a crude apology, Cosima knew as much as she embraces Delphine's thighs, but it’s the best she can come up with at this moment. It may take a while before the scars of last night fully heal but she intends to be on her knees - both literally and figuratively - for however long it takes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How is everybody holding up? I can only hope you are all safe and feeling relatively okay, your loved ones too.
> 
> My biggest thanks to Corsan, my friend, who has shone her light on this chapter (on this fic to be honest) in more ways than one (her help goes way, way beyond the French words). Thank you very much for the friendship and insights. In these trying times, it's really good to have friends. :) Stay safe and continue feeling better, mon amie. 
> 
> I don't know if anybody even reads the end notes but to whoever is reading this, know that we would stubbornly endure and you are not alone. It's corny and cheesy but we maybe need a little corny and cheesy nowadays.


	22. Cow on Ice: Wimbledon 2014, Part 1

**June 21, 2014 **

For Cosima, the past two weeks seem to have been riddled with four complicated words: _“We need to talk.”_ Her past experiences have made her a firm believer that nothing painless follows that sentence and everybody who has said them to her ever since she got to Britain seems to be adding fire to that belief.

It started as soon as her train from Paris stopped at Ashford with a phone call from Rachel. “We need to talk, Cosima,” she said without even giving her a chance to say an irritated _Hello_ as she prepared to alight from the train. “As part of your performance incentive for your good showing at the French Open,” Rachel dryly said, “Fila has been kind enough to give you a say about your Wimbledon kit. I am sending you their design ideas via email…”

Cosima would be the first to admit that getting the new sponsorship deal after the year’s first hardcourt season is a major blessing. There were no hard feelings between her and Nike - which had been her clothing and shoe sponsor ever since she was in juniors. They have taken good care of her but the Fila offer was just too good to pass up on. And with Nike unable to match it, she knew it would be impractical to stay. The first non-Swoosh kit she wore at the French Open was eye-catching: an all-over graphic print that she instantly liked when it was presented to her. She loved the high-contrast combination of black and white which really stood out on the Parisian red clay, and at first fit, she knew she made the right decision.

But that was Paris and this is Wimbledon. There wasn’t much room for kit customization when you’re stuck with a stringent, all-white dress code – and that’s what she said to Rachel.

“Yes, I understand,” her agent sounded exasperated, “but we wouldn’t want a repeat of Wimbledon 2012 now, would we? So I urge you to choose very carefully.” Wimbledon 2012 - a.k.a. the year she was forced to change her sports bra in the middle of her first round match because its red straps violated the all-white dress code. Pissed at the umpire and the tournament in general, she lost her concentration and then the match even when she convincingly won the first set. She also got fined for audible obscenity, which ate a chunk of her prize money.

So while waiting for Felix to fetch her from the train station, she looked at the design choices Fila sent. She could only wish Delphine was there with her to help her out.

“Hey! Where’s the blonde usually attached to your hip?” Felix said when he spotted her alone at the arrivals.

“Nice to see you too,” Cosima replied. She was expecting a hug from her physio but only got an awkward nod. “Delphine has to stay for two more days in Paris for a film, but she’ll be at Eastbourne by the end of this week.” While she hated the thought of leaving Paris without Delphine, she was very happy about how well her audition for the Curie biopic went. She was so good that the producers and the director wanted her back the next day for a screen test with the other actors. And with her needing to warm-up for the grass season immediately before competing in Eastbourne then in Wimbledon, she had no choice but to leave without her.

“Oh, that’s awesome,” Felix said as he navigated a rotunda in their rented Volkswagen Golf. “We need to talk, Cos…”

_What now_, she thought, but after running away from them in Paris she knew she had to endure whatever training and punishment her team deemed fair.

“I’ve been thinking about our training regimen and I think we have to tweak things a bit, in preparation for the grass.” Deep down, Cosima was relieved – she thought Felix was going to give his two weeks’ notice. “Watching you at the French, there are some things we have to work on so you can move better...so your game translates better on grass.”

“Okay, what’s really going on?” Cosima had to ask when they got into the highway. “You haven’t looked at me since I got here. Are you still pissed about Paris?” She was prepared for Sarah’s rants and for Delphine’s silent treatment, but Cosima was surprised at just how pissed Felix was when she finally showed up at the house after disappearing on them to hang out in the Palmarium.

“You can’t do that anymore, Cos,” he said, looking at her for the first time since she arrived before refocusing his eyes on the road. “We can observe the way you move, the way you play, but we can’t read your mind or your moods. If there’s a problem, if something’s not working, you have to tell us. We carry the weight together - the injuries, the loneliness, the losses -”

“Even the paparazzi?” Cosima joked.

“If it affects you, it affects us. Come hell or high water, we’re a team - you, me, Sarah, Delphine...and fine, even bloody Rachel. You have to communicate better or I’m done. Is that clear?” Cosima should have been concerned - she knew Felix wouldn’t renege on that threat, yet it warmed her heart that Felix (and by extension, Sarah) considered Delphine part of the team.

“I won’t shut you guys out anymore, I promise.”

“Good, because to be honest it’s hard to be mean and cold towards you,” Felix said, finally breaking a smile. “Oh and we’ll talk some more about the training changes tomorrow at first practice. In the meantime, do spill about your Parisian excursion with the hot blonde TV-slash-film star.”

The changes that Felix talked about weren’t so bad at first and they seemed simple enough. “We won’t be doing those five, ten kilometers runs anymore,” he and Sarah said during the prep for the grass court warm-ups, much to Cosima’s relief. She hated the long runs even as a junior – the length bored her, and her ankles and knees always hurt after. She already expected the change as early as preseason training when Felix told her to run no more than two kilometers in the morning.

“You don’t really have to run that long or far in tennis,” Sarah said, “but you do have to run in high-intensity intervals, so Fee here has crafted short, intense trainings for you,” and Sarah pointed to the various training implements scattered at a portion of Eastbourne’s Grand Parade Beach.

“It’ll be good for muscle tone, building up energy, and you wouldn’t use your joints that much,” Felix added in an effort to sell the new training program.

“And it would help with Wimbledon,” Sarah said as she set up plastic cones and other obstacles, “or at least that’s the hope - you can’t slide on grass, and with this the goal is for you to be able to actually stop on court without tearing your ligaments. And then maybe you’d finally believe me,” Sarah said before blowing the whistle for Felix to demonstrate how to run the training course.

There are only a few constants in a tennis player’s life – the sheer amount of travelling and tournaments makes sure that that’s the case. It varies from player to player, but for Cosima one of those constants is her self-proclaimed ineptitude on grass courts. In her head, the surface always highlighted her weaknesses: she likes to run and slide, but on slippery grass that’s just not going to work unless you’re looking for body pains and injuries. It’s a surface that rewards aggressive hitters and servers like Serena and Venus Williams – opponents who have handed her ass to her after hitting her out of the court. On grass courts, the ball tends to move faster with a lower and more unpredictable bounce, making defending and retrieving challenging even for a premier counterpuncher like Cosima.

Which is why it always made Cosima laugh whenever Sarah tells her that she actually has the game for grass. “It’s not about the shot repertoire or the serve speed, it’s about point construction and shot placement – two things you’re very good at,” Sarah said when she called her for a timeout during her first match at Eastbourne – a match she won after meekly losing the first set. “You’re not just a counterpuncher, you’re an aggressive counterpuncher. Defense to offense, good movement – that’s our all-surface bread and butter,” she told her during the second Eastbourne match when she went up against a grass court specialist and prevailed in three tight sets.

“We need to talk,” Sarah said as she waited outside the stall while Cosima took her shower after a close loss to Caroline Wozniacki in the Eastbourne Quarterfinal.

_Not again. _“What about?” Cosima said when she exited the shower wrapped in her robe.

“Ever since French Open, I’ve been thinking…”

“Uh-oh,” and Cosima began to wear a fresh change of clothes, “you thinking, that’s bad news,” she jested, which earned an eye-roll from Sarah. “Okay, what have you been thinking?” Cosima asked in a more serious tone as she took a seat on a bench while she re-wore her shoes.

“That maybe I should step back…” Sarah said to a stunned Cosima, “that maybe you need another voice, somebody with new ideas -”

“Dude,” Cosima interrupted, “is it because you want to spend more time with Kira? Try again with Cal? Because if that’s it, I’d totally understand.”

“Nah, nah, it’s not that,” and Sarah scratched her head with a sarcastic smirk. “There’ll be no tennis to play or coach, but I’ll still be a shit mum, a crap girlfriend…It’s just…I couldn’t sort you out during the Sharapova match…I thought I did, but you lost and then you left and -”

“Sar, you didn’t do anything wrong in Paris. We planned the assault together and I was the one who didn’t show up on court…” Cosima weighed the pros and cons of what she said next before being reminded of Felix’s words - _You have to communicate better or I’m done –_ and she didn’t want to lose Sarah so she stuck with honesty. “Part of the reason why I just slipped and took off was because I can’t look at you in the eye after that loss…you work so hard for me and I let you down. I let everything get to me in a bad way and…I’m sorry.”

Sarah was quite stoic but Cosima could tell that what she said got to her. “It would be a disservice,” her coach said, “if I’m no longer getting through to you and I stay on. I don’t want this to come to that…”

“I don’t want to lose you,” Cosima said, “there’s nobody else I want in my box; that I would want to convince me that I can actually hack it at grass. Come on - give me a shot to show you that I believe you.”

“Okay,” and Sarah gave her a timid smile, “but promise me this much – if I’m no longer getting through to you, you will tell me, yeah?”

Since arriving at SW 19, Cosima has been hard at work at proving to Sarah that she is listening. “Use drop shots,” she instructed when they first practiced at the pristine grass courts of the All England Lawn Tennis Club and she did - even if she slipped and fell on her ass as she came to the net. “Let’s work on your laterals on grass,” Sarah instructed and she didn’t even groan out a faux-complaint and just did it as she ran and stopped by the small cones while Felix timed her. “Try to keep a better first serve percentage,” she asked, and she repetitively dished out serves. It’s tiring but she has to believe Sarah, and she has to believe that all these would help her be a better tennis player.

The only respite Cosima gets in the days leading to Wimbledon is the sight she sees when she gets back to their rented house near Merton Park. Delphine on the couch with a script on hand or taking a nap; Delphine in the kitchen making coffee or whipping up some snacks for them; Delphine who seems always happy to give her a kiss and a hug before asking her how her day went; Delphine just walking around in old jammies while wearing one of her shirts. Seeing her relaxes her and she couldn’t believe how she forgot that one simple fact amidst the craziness that happened in Paris.

This day has been exceptionally tiring - with the tournament nearing its start in two days, the practice drills and games have picked up a notch. She looks forward to tomorrow, to a lighter practice and to talks of strategies, and to the possibility of heading out to a nice lunch and a quiet stroll around the park with Delphine - who wasn’t downstairs when they got home from practice. Cosima hurriedly enters their bedroom for a sight of her girlfriend but when she saw her there, tensely sitting by the study table with her hands clasped together, she already knew what was coming.

“Mon amour, we need to talk.”

\-----

Delphine pondered hard about her decision ever since Cosima left on the morning train to Ashford. While they have moved on past what happened in Paris, some of the things that were said were hard to forget – not because they were still painful, but because there are valid points beneath the raised and frustrated voices. It swirled in her mind in the days and nights after, and by the time she herself was crossing the English Channel, she pretty much already made up her mind.

It’s just the matter of how she’s going to tell Cosima that’s a tad complicated.

“Hello, grass courts of Wimbledon!” Delphine heard Cosima gleefully shouting as she slipped on the court en route to returning a drop shot from Sarah during her first practice. “My ass is pleased to meet you again!”

“What is she saying?” She turned to Felix who seemed to be busy timing what Cosima was doing.

“Essentially that her arse is cannon fodder for grass,” he replied, pushing a button on the stopwatch and signaling a redo to Sarah. “She has the game for it, she just doesn’t believe it yet because of that,” and Felix pointed at Cosima sliding and slipping again when Sarah wrong-footed her. “We’ve been working hard to give her the repetitive movements she needs for grass since last year. It’s a work in progress,” he added. In the weeks of watching her girlfriend play on the green surface, Delphine could tell that Cosima needed to work harder if she wanted to achieve something monumental in London. Gone were the swagger and the sureness of her movements that were so evident on clay – they have been replaced by tentative and doubtful steps.

“We’re done for today,” Sarah screamed from the court in the Aorangi Park as she and Cosima took to the chair for what looked like a long wrap-up meeting. Felix then motioned for them to head to the lockers and wait for them there.

“Have you told her yet?” He curiously asked her when they found an empty couch outside the practice court locker rooms.

“No,” Delphine answered with a shake of her head. “Every time I get around to actually saying it, I chicken out.”

Felix snickered and reached into his bag for some money. “Well, the tournament starts soon, blondie, you either tell her or you pull a Paris,” and he stood. “I’m going to get something in the cafeteria. Do you want anything?” And with another shake of her head, Felix walked off. She was passing the time alone by brainlessly going through her emails when another presence joined her on the couch.

“Excuse me, are you even allowed to be here?” The woman in Felix’s seat asked and she mindlessly showed her the tournament ID around her neck.

“Oh, in the flesh,” the woman answered which made Delphine put down her phone to look at her. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced, I’m -”

“Shay,” Delphine said, barely forgetting the last time she saw her – down the hall with a hand on her girlfriend’s breast. “I know who you are,” she added with a pointed look that she hoped would end the conversation.

“I only saw you in the papers back in Paris,” Shay jabbed, “you look prettier in person – I see now why Cosima is so distracted.” She was about to retort something along the lines of _at le__ast I’m more than just a scratching post, _when Felix returned.

“Are you fraternizing with the enemy, Delphine? Or are you sizing up the better competition, Davydov?” And with those words, Shay managed a forced smile and a half-hearted _nice to meet you_ before grabbing her things and disappearing to a treatment room.

“Probably the latter,” Felix said with a raised eyebrow when she was gone, “I’m way better than her, don’t you think?” Which made Delphine laugh.

She isn’t surprised that Cosima eventually found out about her run-in with her - _ex? _– given how much time she spends with Felix in the practice days leading to the tournament. She also isn’t surprised when Cosima thought that that’s what she wanted to talk about.

“If it’s about what happened with Shay a few days ago - yes, Felix told me - you have nothing to worry about because that’s so over even before we got together. And I’m sorry for the crap I pulled in New York and I swear you have nothing to be - ”

“No mon amour it’s not about that,” and she cups her face and gives her a welcome home kiss. “It’s something else,” and Cosima shifts her gaze on the pieces of luggage near the bedroom bench.

“I think it would be best that I’m not here for your Wimbledon,” Delphine finally voices out the decision she reached.

“Why? Did I say something? Do something?” And Cosima began to pace the room.

“No, you didn’t do anything…” Delphine says trying to catch Cosima’s arm for her to stay still.

“But I said something,” Cosima exhales as she stops by the window to look out to the garden.

Delphine stands up to join her and she holds her hands before she speaks. “After Paris, I got to thinking - specifically about what you said in the Palmarium…” Cosima runs her thumbs on the tops of her hands, egging her to continue so she did, “that tennis needs you to be selfish. So I’ve made a decision - to allow you to be selfish for hopefully the next two weeks…” and Delphine lets go of one of Cosima’s hands to caress her girlfriend’s face. “I’m giving way to tennis and I’m going back to L.A. tomorrow for work. It needs to be the most important thing in your life right now - ”

“But this is the most important thing in my life right now,” Cosima says while looking at their joined hands. “I don’t know how sorry I need to be for you to believe that, Delphine,” and tears began to stream from the brunette’s eyes which broke Delphine’s heart.

“I believe you, mon amour, and this is the most important thing in my life too,” she answers as she wipes away the tears, “but I won’t be able to live with myself knowing that me being here is crowding whatever space you have to be great. It’s only for two weeks,” and she cradles Cosima face on her palms as she leans her forehead on hers.

“You know this sacrifice of yours would be for nothing if I lose my first match,” Cosima says, resigning to not argue with Delphine’s decision.

“So you go out there and act like you own the grass courts,” she says before kissing her all over her face, “make the sacrifice well worth it,” and before she knows it, Cosima is redirecting her lips to hers.

“I love you, Cosima,” she adds after catching her breath, “you’re going to do great.”

\-----

**June 23, 2014 – First Round**

“I like it,” Sarah says as they round the corner to wait for the conclusion of the men’s match that precedes their first round match. “It’s so white…I never thought you could pull off something so simple,” her coach says as she brings down the tennis bag in the waiting area.

“It’s bloody awesome is what it is!” Felix gives a more glowing review, “I especially like this,” and he grabs Cosima’s arm to roll up the cardigan and show the wristband she chose. She wanted to roll with the rainbow flag wristband in solid colors, but the tournament wouldn’t approve of it. Delphine was right to pick the more subtle wristband – still predominantly white with just the right amount of creative, rainbow stitching to proudly show off her colors.

Overall, Cosima likes the final combination she chose even if it’s the simplest tennis kit she had ever played in – a white, racer back tank with a round neck and seaming details in front that gives texture to the simple top. The mesh at the back gives added ventilation and comfort. The skirt is simple too - with the pleats around the hem being the only striking design element, but it does go well with her knee-high white socks. The headband she chose is Borg-esque, providing another small dash of color to something so plain.

Delphine certainly loved it when she showed it to her the first time – the only time as it turned out because she left London yesterday. She loved it so much that she took her time in stripping her naked the night before she left. “I just want to see you get out of it,” she teased, biting her lower lip harder as garment after garment hit the floor.

She should be thinking about her first round match against Andrea Hlaváčková, a Czech doubles specialist who came through the singles qualifiers as a lucky loser, but Cosima misses Delphine terribly - the emptiness immediately sinking in the minute she was gone. While Felix volunteered to drive her to the airport, she insisted on coming with them. 

“Just because I’m agreeing to this,” Cosima said on the drive to Heathrow, “doesn’t mean I’m agreeing to your logic...”

“It’s for the best. Without me here,” Delphine said as she held her hand, “you’d have one less distraction, mon amour.” She wanted to react – to say how she’s not a distraction; how she was just pissed at herself in Paris when she insinuated that she was; how she could think of ways to convince her to stay. But they arrived at the airport and Delphine was already kissing her goodbye inside the car, and with a hurried I love you, she was off.

“Is something wrong?” Sarah nudges her side with her elbow. “You’re spacing out a little there.”

“I just miss her so much that’s all.” Cosima sees no reason to deny what she feels. She isn’t expecting Sarah to react, but the next thing she knew, her coach is pulling her to a quiet corner of the waiting room.

“You really love this one, don’t you?” 

“Yes,” Cosima says with a deep breath, “it hurts that she feels the need to not be here just for me. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Let’s play a game then,” Sarah suggests, “pretend Delphine’s here – somewhere in the court, watching you play. Can you do that?”

Cosima nods. She can try and maybe she can trick her brain into thinking that Delphine didn’t fly off a thousand miles away yesterday. She was in the middle of doing that when the two Spanish guys who played the match before them exit the court together while sharing a cordial laugh before heading their separate ways – the loser going straight to the showers, the winner giving a short interview. A few minutes later, Sarah and Felix are making their way to her player box, and Cosima and Andrea are being ushered in to Court No. 3.

She had played against Andrea before - in the ITFs when she was trying to build up ranking points while Andrea was trying to dip her toes back into the singles game. She knows she has an aggressive game that adapts well on grass, but that she would have a difficult time covering the deuce side – a manifestation of being used to another soul covering another side of the court. But for the first 15 minutes of the match, Andrea surprised her with the ability to cover the entire court and to read the direction of her second serves. In just 10 minutes, she found herself down 0-2 in the first set - Andrea’s bid to boot her out, the #4-ranked player, is off to a good start.

“Don’t panic,” Cosima tells herself as she takes her first drink of water. “Come on, just take care of your serve,” and she slaps her thigh to wake herself up, “Delphine’s watching for Pete’s sake.” And as she stood on the service line, she hits a clean, well-placed first serve – her first ace of the match. In the next point, Cosima made Andrea run from side to side before hitting a deep forehand down the line that her opponent can only watch from the other side of the court. In the next 15 minutes, Andrea began to overcompensate for her inability to run to every ball by trying to hit winners that ultimately sailed out or got caught in the net. Another 10 minutes later and Cosima has won the first set at 6-3.

“She’ll try to go to the net more,” she says to herself and to prevent that from happening, Cosima relied on muscle memory to give Andrea higher and slower balls to work with, leaving her with no choice but to either add pace to the ball (which is good for Cosima because she can kill the ball while conserving power) or loop it back (giving Cosima all kinds of options to orchestrate a point). Andrea fell for her trap and in only 20 minutes, Cosima is looking at two match points. She only needed one to end the match with a 6-0 score line in the second set. 

“That’s quite a show,” she tells herself as she packs up her things while looking at the row of seats up above the player’s box – the section where she imagined Delphine would have been inconspicuously watching her first Wimbledon match of the year.

\-----

**June 25, 2014 – Second Round**

_“Niehaus overthinks every shot.” _

_“Niehaus is crap on grass.” _

_“Niehaus is all image…More preoccupied with her hair and her knee socks instead of practicing her second serve.”_

_“Niehaus is a choker.” _

_“Niehaus is beatable.” _

Mona re-reads the notes lining the actual strategies for her second round match against Cosima Niehaus – the American number 4 seed and someone who only a year and a few months ago was ranked way lower than her. There was no need for notes like these the last time they met - in the Round of 16 of Hobart before last year’s Australian Open. She won that pretty convincingly in three sets: 2-6, 6-0, 6-1, which was expected since she was ranked 32nd and Cosima 45th.

By the time the French Open came around in 2013, she was already a seeded player with a ranking of 23 and on the up and up. Niehaus was at 58 and floundering. Funny how the tables have turned since then – how Niehaus racked up wins, and how she racked up losses and injuries. How now, her only chance of moving on to the third round and winning against Niehaus relies on how much she believes the statements in her notebook, statements she wrote with her coach as a way to motivate her.

“But she’s actually nice,” she said to Christopher – her coach who she hired shortly before this year's French Open - as she wrote _Niehaus is all image_. Mona thinks that unlike most Americans, Niehaus actually means it whenever she asks her how she is; is actually interested in the answer that that question would yield. Maybe she’s just being friendly, after all, back in Hobart she seemed especially friendly to that blonde physio who was showering her with all kinds of unneeded medical and non-medical attention.

“I don’t care if she’s nice,” Christopher said while adding the words _choker_ in the notebook, “she’s beatable – that’s all that matters. And we need this win.” He is right about that, Mona thinks as she enters the No.1 Court with Cosima now. Money is getting tight, with most of her career earnings being eaten by travel and physical therapy expenses. And the support she gets from her federation – the Deutscher Tennis Bund – all goes to coaching fees. If she doesn’t do well here and the other tournaments that follow, she’d need to take out a loan just to afford plane tickets.

At the start of the match, Mona still held on to the belief that she can earn a repeat win over Niehaus. Her coach is right after all – grass is her opponent’s weak surface and on it, she’s beatable. Mona wins her opening service game, only allowing Niehaus a point, which cements her belief in her scribbles. In the next game, she was able to bring the game to deuce before Niehaus surprised her with a drop shot – something she didn’t know she was capable of until now. Mona reels in her next service game with difficulty as she needed to save a couple of break points. Her opponent holds in her next service and she didn’t even score a point.

“Her serve is different,” Mona ponders as she takes her seat and pretends there’s something wrong with her racquet. “Just hang on,” casting the thought aside as she gets a freshly-strung one from her tennis bag, “she’ll overthink and choke.”

Only Niehaus didn’t and she did. Playing against her now is frustrating - it never felt that way the last time. Now, no matter how strong her shots are, the small American seems to be there to return it. It made her afraid and doubtful about her game – “just how many goddamn shots do I have to make to earn a winner against her?” Mona was so wrapped up in trying to answer that riddle that she didn’t notice that she was over-hitting and over-playing her returns and serves.

“Miss Niehaus leads by two games to love, second set, and by one set to love,” is the next thing Mona hears. She’s so far gone that when Cosima hits one backhand down the line winner after another, she can only mutter the words that have been simmering in her head: “ätzend!!!” which earned a sharp, warning look from Christopher.

“What am I supposed to do?” She yells at him while he comfortably sits in her player’s box. “Du Lusche!”

She tried to claw her way back in the fifth game, with the crowd cheering for her to win just one game in the second set. Mona couldn’t believe that this is what she has become – the player that gets pity cheers from the audience. “I can’t even hit the ball without the fear that it would just keep coming back,” she thinks to herself when Cosima serves for the match at 5-0. It was over in less than two minutes at 6-2, 6-0, quite similar to the scoreline in Hobart but with different results. The firm handshake over the net remains the same though – win or lose, Niehaus shook hands properly. That is something she can respect.

In the locker room after, the last thing Mona wanted to see after losing that badly is the sight of Niehaus being obviously hit on by the same blonde physio. Normally, she doesn’t care – things like this happen a lot on tour, be it between players, a player and a coach, or in this case a player and a tournament employee. But while Niehaus was a willing participant back in Australia a year ago, she seems to want nothing to do with the short blonde woman now. When the other woman finally took no for an answer and walked away, Mona finds herself curiously approaching Cosima.

“I used to beat you,” she says, “something’s different with you, but not really…You know what I mean?”

Niehaus nervously laughs – and it’s a genuine laughter too, way different from the other top players who wouldn’t even be bothered to talk after a match. “Oddly enough,” and she loosens her hair bun, “I get it.”

“What changed?” Maybe Niehaus can let her in on some tips – maybe a recommendation for a sports psychiatrist; or a new training method; or tell her the combination of racquet strings she uses to make those unbelievable angles on return.

“Hold that thought,” Niehaus says as her phone rings from her pocket. Mona didn’t mean to check out who’s calling, but the huge face on the screen is clearly the same woman that tabloids around here publish as Niehaus’ girlfriend - some sort of actress who she saw at the practice courts a few days ago.

“Hey, hey,” Niehaus’ face softens – the tension from the match and her encounter with the physio now completely gone. “You saw the match over breakfast? Really? God I miss you too, babe. You really can’t be here?”

Mona took it as her cue to get out of the locker room. She didn’t need to know Niehaus’ answer - it was pretty obvious what’s changed. She tries to think about the last time she smiled the way Niehaus did when her girlfriend called, and she realizes that it’s been a while since she's had a life outside tennis. Maybe she should try that and hope that it has an effect on her game.

And if it doesn’t work that way, at least she’d be as happy as Niehaus. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some tennis stuff:
> 
> *SW 19 is another term for Wimbledon - the most prestigious of the four major grand slams in tennis, so termed because it's the postal code of the All England Tennis Club.  
*"Cow on Ice" is actually a Maria Sharapova quote - a description of how she was when playing on clay courts.  
*If you're reading this now and you follow tennis, you may have already heard that Wimbledon 2020 has been cancelled due to the COVID-19 pandemic. It sucks, yes, but what's happening around us now is way more important than tennis, way more important than a lot of things. Writing this fic has been therapeutic for me with the lockdown and I just want to thank everybody who's sticking around, reading, and leaving comments. Thank you so much, you are keeping me sane.
> 
> Big thanks as usual to my buddy Corsan for the read-through, support, and invaluable suggestions. Give her story - The Antz - a read if you have the time. It's one hell of a trip. :)
> 
> Stay safe, stay healthy and see you all again in the next chapter. :)


	23. Cow on Ice: Wimbledon 2014, Part 2

**June 27, 2014 – Third Round**

Sarah has been exposed to tennis most of her life, yet she couldn’t help but be overwhelmed as she and Felix took their player’s box seats this afternoon. “Centre Court,” Felix says underneath his breath, “the holiest of all holy grounds,” and Sarah could only meekly nod.

Her eyes take in the size of the court, not missing the royal box right beside their section and the air of prestige brought on by its occupants. The biggest moment of Sarah’s professional career: playing and winning against Serena Williams in the third round of Wimbledon 2005, should have happened here but the matches scheduled before ran long and they were transferred at the last minute to the old No. 2 Court – the Graveyard of Champions. Siobhan managed to convince her that it’s a good thing: “She’s a champion and you still have a long way to go, chicken. We’re used to small courts - she isn’t.” Almost 10 years later and she still believes she would have lost had it pushed through here, intimidated by the history that comes with being a Brit and playing on Centre Court. 

Sarah shakes her head in disbelief that she made it here somehow. She’s had her share of nervous moments before, but none could compare to the nerves she’s trying to hide now while waiting for Cosima to emerge with a familiar tormentor.

“The way I see it,” she said to Felix the night before over a glass of wine to take the edge off, “there are only two things that can happen tomorrow. 

“So what happens now?” Cosima asked her as they drove to the All England Lawn Tennis Club.

“Either we have a good day or a shitty day,” Sarah repeated her answer from last night. And when Cosima asked for specifics, she was thankful for the cheap wine that gave her a toothache and kept her up long enough to come up with an explanation.

“A good day is when we go on the court and you put in 100% - no matter what’s happening outside the court, no matter what you feel.”

“So a perfect game?” Her ward prematurely concluded, the pressure caused by high expectations bubbled in the surface.

Sarah shook her head. “It’s not about playing the best tennis. It means putting in 100% effort...Doing everything you can with what you can control. And whatever is outside your control, you won’t bother with it.”

“And a shitty day? It’s when I lose, right?”

“When you lose, you get injured, or when you let stuff out of your control take over. It doesn’t matter. We win whether it’s a good day or a shitty day.”

“Why is that?” It’s one of the things Sarah loves about working with her – the endless questions, the unquenchable curiosity that fuels Cosima’s efforts to work harder and see how far she could go.

“Because on a good day, no matter if we win or lose we can enjoy a beer after and say that we gave it all we’ve got,” and Cosima smiled at that. “And shitty days, I love shitty days. Just imagine how much we can grow. The French semis? That was a particularly nice shitty day if you ask me – and look how much we’ve learned.”

Sarah knows that the accumulated lessons from all their many previous shitty days need to kick in this afternoon. After all, they are up against Venus Williams and her tons of experience as a five-time Wimbledon champion. The press is framing it as an “Old School versus Young Blood” battle – the grizzled veteran trying to stop the hands of time from turning on her career, against the cocky young gun who’s finally living up to the potential she “wasted” years ago.

But for them, it’s a battle against tradition. Every year since Cosima turned pro, she lost to Venus: Acapulco in 2010, Eastbourne in 2011, Charleston in 2012, and most recently, Tokyo in 2013. The Tokyo defeat was a shitty day - Cosima had it but was unable to close it out. Nobody said a word, but they all knew it was a choke fest. The fact that she was pining for Delphine around that time made matters complicated.

“Did you take care of our little side-project?” Sarah asks Felix when Cosima and Venus finally entered the court, the height difference between them almost making her laugh.

“Yeah,” and he points to a particular spot in the court. “I tightened her ankle tapes a bit too just so you know – her request, not mine.”

“Good,” and Sarah exhales loudly, “that means she’s going to fight.” She needs to battle it out, Sarah thinks. Venus can play unbelievable tennis on grass, no matter what people say about her age. And given how all their previous matches went the distance, Cosima needs to hold on as long as she can if she wants to win.

Sarah chooses to view the first game as an indication of how the match is going to play out. Venus elected to serve and had to save a break point – this means that Cosima has the tools to really take it to one of the most decorated grass court players in the women’s game. Whether she has the gumption to win it is what they are going to find out this afternoon.

“Are you seeing this?” Felix asks when the scoreline ticked 5-4 with Cosima serving to level things up.

Sarah knows what her brother is referring to. “Yeah,” and she looks at the tablet where Felix is charting the match. Cosima’s 1 st serve win percentage is currently at 78.5% - way higher than her average of 64.3%. The service, the most fallible aspect of her ward’s game, seems to be holding on - sailing in and earning points when it's usually a liability around this time. 

“She’s going to try to win this on her serve,” Sarah adds, the statistic providing a piece of the answer to her question about Cosima’s guts. “She’s beginning to believe,” and Felix smirks as he tallies another service ace for Cosima – her third of the match, exceeding her usual total of two aces for an entire match.

But old habits die hard, they have a way of creeping back when things get tight. And as Cosima serves to force a tiebreak in the first set, she gets broken to love. Losing the first set at 5-7, Sarah braces for Cosima’s negativity – her go-to response after being so close to a breakthrough. Maybe it would be a repeat reaction of the French Open semis’ when she let Sharapova crawl back from 1-4 in the second set: Cosima’s patented racquet smash and self-loathing tirade, her face showing a deep-seeded rage that stayed until she lost.

There was none of that here though. Instead of racquet destruction, Cosima opted to tighten her bun. Instead of an angry, self-destructive monologue, she took quiet sips of her water and hydration formula. Instead of a pissed off Cosima at the start of the new set, there she stands now looking calm as she waits to receive Venus’ serve.

With the memory of wilting on serve fresh in her mind, Sarah bites her nails at 4-5 in the second set as Cosima serves to stay in the match. In the second set, they expected Cosima to revert to passive counterpunching, to be content to just return the ball. But Cosima continued serving hard and chasing after the ball in an effort to shorten rallies which took Venus (and her and Felix) by surprise. Both players haven’t surrendered their serves, but at 15-30, the momentum seems to have shifted to Venus.

“That is her sixth ace of the match,” she hears Felix says as Cosima levels the game at 30-30. “Who is this serve-bot and what did you do to Cosima?”

“We practiced her body serve and T-serve,” Sarah replies as Cosima served-and-volleyed like an old school grass court specialist to tie it up at 5-all. She didn’t take her foot off the gas when the set went on tiebreak, mixing things up by continuing to serve well while peppering Venus with baseline shots that put her on awkward return positions. Cosima’s celebrations after a commanding 7-2 tiebreak win was conservative: a fist pump and a determined look on her face, conveying to everybody watching that she’s just getting started.

Serving first in the third set meant that for as long as Cosima holds, she would always be in front. She seems to know that as she held serve after serve, dazzling the crowd with her all-court game and deep, well-placed shots. As the sun dipped after more than two hours of play, Cosima managed to do what she couldn’t in the last four times she met Venus – she hunkered down and dug deep, holding at 5-4 from being down 0-30 to stay ahead, and then at 6-5 with Venus serving to extend the battle, she forced Venus to make two costly backhand errors.

Two hours and 30 minutes later with each player only conceding their serve once, Cosima finally breaks tradition, winning the third round match at 5-7, 7-6, 7-5.

With a score that close and making a career-high nine aces in the match, Sarah expected Cosima to roll around the grass or at least kneel in relief when Venus’ last shot went wide. But there was no cheeky celebration when she raised her hands in victory after the handshakes. What Sarah saw in Cosima’s eyes is a look not of determination but of realization – that her game can go toe-to-toe against one of the very best; that her game translates to all surfaces; that she can counterpunch and still be aggressive. 

“I told you so,” Sarah says as she claps while Cosima exits the court with her opponent. “I fucking told you so.”

\-----

**June 30, 2014 – Fourth Round**

It took less than five minutes after the Venus match for Gene to decide that they needed to be in London. “We have to be there,” he bellowed as he grabbed his phone.

“Why?” Sally asked without removing her eyes away from the TV when she got to the living room. As usual, his wife decided to leave the actual watching to him, locking herself in their home office to work and choosing to stay out of the loop by disconnecting from the internet. “It seemed like a nail-biter, judging from your shrieks,” she chuckled. “Oh my...” Her tone more serious as she pointed to the match statistics that flashed on screen, “is that her first serve numbers?”

Gene let out a grunt and a nod. “We have to be there,” he said again as he bookmarked possible flights. “The last time Cosima was here, we made a deal – if she makes it to the second week, we’re watching live.” It was silly talk, Gene knew as much. He knew Cosima only humored him while driving back home with wine and rosé for Delphine and Sally because she believed she wouldn’t make it that far on grass. 

“We’re bad luck, remember?” Sally reminded him. Her words seemed to have fallen on deaf ears but the context of  _ “we’re bad luck” _ was something that stuck with Gene all these years. He knew that tennis takes a toll and tennis players have their own defense mechanisms when things get too close to heart or when it’s about to really hurt deep down. Some players get angry, others sad, and Cosima becomes...unpredictable. 

Off court, she is kind, impish, and inquisitive. But Gene had long accepted that his daughter isn’t always herself on-court. When she tried to make her grand slam debut in Wimbledon 2010 and suffered a scathing loss in the qualies, something really dark seemed to have left Cosima’s body – he saw it through the TV screen. And it was the voice of her darkness who angrily said: “You guys are bad luck. Especially you, Dad,” when they offered their support by proposing to watch her play live the next time. Gene’s sure that Cosima probably doesn't even remember that terse phone call an hour after her loss from years ago.

In a way, it’s one of the reasons why he likes Delphine - after every gut-wrenching defeat, she’s still by their daughter’s side one way or another. Gene thinks that somehow, Delphine seems to be able to catch Cosima’s dark entity, bottling it up or at least keeping it at bay long enough for his daughter to figure herself out before the next tournament. 

“Okay,” Sally conceded when he stayed silent, “I just texted Delphine. She gave me the address,” and she helped herself to a glass of wine. “When do we leave?”

It took two days for them to arrange everything: flights, hotel, clean clothes, transportation arrangements, rescheduled faculty meetings. They booked the earliest flight that arrives in London at 1 p.m., which would give them a good two-hour lead time for Cosima’s fourth round match against Peng Shuai – a player who has good net skills and flat groundstrokes, i.e. somebody who can give Cosima headaches on grass. While Gene has an overwhelming need to watch Cosima play, he knew she shouldn’t enter the match distracted, so the day before Sally talked to Sarah who arranged non-box seats tickets for them. They would pop in after the match, whatever happens.

But as luck would have it, their flight was delayed and their E.T.A. had been changed to 2 p.m. – barely enough time to clear immigration, get their bags, and make it in time for the second set. As they board the plane, Gene can only hope that the men’s match before Cosima’s would go the distance so they could make it. Figuring they’d still be in transit when Day 7 starts, he bought on-board WiFi to be abreast of what’s happening.

“Try to get some sleep,” Sally said after dinner service when he asked for another cup of coffee. “I don’t want you to be a fidgeting, nervous mess tomorrow – that’s usually me,” she laughed. He tried to get as much rest as he could, but every once in a while, he would wake up and get his phone to read and watch Cosima’s match recaps.

Much to Gene’s annoyance, the delays did not end in San Francisco as the captain announced that they’d need to circle around the runway. He already changed the time on his watch and as the seconds tick by, Gene knows they’re going to miss the game. The plane hadn't made its final descent when the match before Cosima’s ended. He could only offer a sardonic chuckle: he asked for a 5-setter but got a quick 3-setter instead. 

Maybe he is bad luck.

By the time the plane touched down, Cosima’s match had already started. Once they reached the airport, he quickly connected to any available WiFi to watch the scoreline. Cosima is up by 4-3 with both players still on-serve as they make their way to immigration where a long queue awaits them. They hadn't moved substantially when his phone ran out of juice.

“Give me your phone,” he anxiously asks Sally. She fishes out an old flip-phone from her bag.

“What in the blazes is this?” As he eyes  _ No Service _ on the tiny screen.

“It’s my travel phone,” Sally says, surprised. “It’s what I always bring when we travel.” They buy a traveler’s SIM to cut down on unexpected costs, Gene remembers now as he slams it close.

“This is why I told you to lay off on the coffee,” and she gets the phone back as the line inches forward. “Don’t worry,” Sally adds while rubbing his back, “Cosima, she will manage. You have to trust that she will.” Gene suspects that this is what his wife tells herself before she slips into the next room to avoid Cosima’s match.

As comforting as his wife’s words were, they didn’t work. And when they finally cleared immigration to wait for their bags, Gene could only helplessly look at his watch for the umpteenth time. It’s five minutes to three...By this time, the first set is already over and they’re probably contesting the second set. Last he saw, Peng was serving well, giving Cosima minimal cracks at getting ahead.

Finally out of the airport, they get into the hired car. The first thing Gene eloquently blurts out to the driver is: “Do you have a charger?” Who then opened the glove compartment to get a boxy contraption.

“It’s a powerbank,” he explains, “just plug your phone in with your cable.” Gene rooted around his messenger bag trying to find the darn thing when his wife spoke.

“Can you turn the radio to BBC 5? Thanks,” requesting the driver before opening her own bag and giving the cable to her husband. A few seconds later, the car gets filled with the sound of their daughter’s voice.

“ _ It’s still sinking in... I’m happy with the way I handled myself and played - not only this match, but this week. In the beginning, honestly, I was nervous. After the third round with Venus, I expected some sort of let-down on my part today. And yeah, it’s still sinking in that I’m in the second week of Wimbledon. _ ”

“ _ So what’s the first thing you’re going to do now to prepare for the quarterfinals where you are facing Petra Kvitova, another Wimbledon champion? _ ” The interviewer asks.

“ _ First things first, I’m going to call my parents and tell them to fly here. I made a promise to my Dad... _ ”

And for the first time since leaving San Francisco, Gene smiles. “We’re coming, kid.”

\-----

**July 1, 2014 – Quarterfinals**

“And we welcome a very special guest – Cosima Niehaus,” Christine says while Cosima tries to give a genuine smile for the cameras. As Rachel has pointed out before, interviews are not her strongest suit. “You tend to be more charming and affable in interviews that only a few people will see. On interviews that broadcast internationally, you come across as...impudent. We have to fix that.” And that’s why she had to attend media training while nursing a bum ankle after last year’s U.S. Open.

Rachel’s media training didn’t change Cosima’s unease during major interviews though. It’s not for lack of things to say, nor is she ultra-conscious of her image – after all, she’s pretty comfortable in her own skin. But it is those same qualities that often get her trapped in interview quagmires: one minute she’d be eloquently discussing how she felt after a win, the next she’d be talking about how lonely tennis really is (“A major downer,” was how Felix described one such interview). And after Melbourne, she often gave snarky answers about her sexuality because of how condescending the questions were.

“I don’t see any problems with it,” Delphine once told her while they watched her post-match press conference after losing the Australian Open finals.

“You’re just saying that because you love me and I give you toe-curling orgasms,” and Cosima lightly pinched her on the side while she snuggled closer, slightly dislodging the laptop in the process.

“No, I mean it,” Delphine said before kissing the top of her head as they lounged on the couch in her Toronto flat. “Even if I didn’t know you and somebody made me watch it, I’ll find it refreshingly raw and honest...”

“Is that so?” Cosima playfully raised an eyebrow. “Care to elaborate, Miss Cormier?”

“You’re intelligent – I think you know that, but I don’t think you know how emotionally articulate you are,” and Delphine gave the video one more look before hitting the spacebar. “You’re so emotionally eloquent that you could explain the pain of the loss to us and we would feel it, sympathize with it. I should know, I’m an actor – I’m hired to be emotionally articulate.”

“Maybe I should give you a run for your money then? Dabble in showbiz...” Cosima joked while stroking the exposed skin on Delphine’s side. “There is, after all, a very thin line between sports and entertainment,” she said as her palms searched for more warmth, more skin.

She sighs on the inside about the memory now, thinking of the things she would give up for Delphine to be here. But maybe she’ll fare better in this evening’s interview. For starters, it's an all–female panel with each interviewer having years of tennis experience. Even Christine the Host has a tennis background having attended college on a Division 1 Tennis scholarship like Cosima.

“So how do you like grass now?” Christine kicks off the interview with a joke meant to make her comfortable.

“Well I love grass now,” she answers which made everybody laugh. 

“Did I hear right – that you’ve never played on grass courts until you were 16?” Pam who’s a former pro with a shitload of grand slams in doubles asks.

“Uhm, yeah,” and Cosima nods. “I mean, there are grass courts in Northern California but I never played on them because they’re inside swanky country clubs,” her hands flying as she speaks.

“So where did you learn to play on grass?” 

“At Wimbledon?” Cosima answers, snorting because it came out as a question which amused the panel again. “Playing juniors here in 2004 was actually the first time I played on grass

“Talk about on-the-job training,” Chrissie, one of the legends of the sport with a ton of singles’ grand slams, quips. “I have to say though, Cosima, from the minute you walked out of the building today you looked calm. There had to be emotions bubbling up underneath because you were up against Petra Kvitova – somebody who already won this tournament and who has a winning record against you. What were you feeling and how did you keep it in check?”

_ Here we go with the emotions talk,  _ Cosima thinks as she tries to find a way to not over-answer the question. “Actually, the nerves made me a bit sick – my stomach was a grumbling mess before the match...You don’t want to hear about that,” she babbles. “The emotions were crazy this morning...but the only things I had in my mind were the wins I got over her in New Haven and in Fed Cup. So the other five didn’t count in my head,” and she grins. “I knew I had to be 100% for this match, for every single shot that I hit. So I did that and I got confident as the match went on.” 

“Based only on your head to head and on past grass tournament performances,” Mary Joe - her Fed Cup Captain - chimes in, “you winning today in tight straight sets is considered an upset. There seems to be magic in Team Niehaus right now. What are you guys doing to make this almost complete 180 on grass happen?”

At this question, Cosima turns serious, “since I’ve started playing tennis, things didn’t come easy for me. I suffered mentally, emotionally, physically before I realized that there could be happiness in tennis. But I think the suffering works wonders,” and she looks at her interviewers who seem perplexed but invested in her answer, “because it helps in keeping both my feet on the ground, in making me realize that I still have a lot of room for improvement. So I go all in during practice because what you do in practice, you have to do during matches too.”

If Rachel is here, she would give her a warning look to wrap it up. But she isn’t, so Cosima continued. “Before the titles, I used to treat the practice and the actual match differently. But the way I see it now, you get better in practice and in matches, and it’s become one of the things I adore about tennis. When I hit the ball wrong and I lose a match because of it, I just want to do 100-200 more hits or even more until I feel my shots.”

“I guess what I’m trying to say is...”and Cosima bites her lip, “the only secret is you have to work hard. The magical moments can only happen if you’re giving it everything you’ve got day in and day out.”

“And we sure hope all the hard work will pay off in two days when you face Maria Sharapova in a repeat of the French Open semifinals,” Christine says to wrap up the interview. Cosima was in the middle of exchanging pleasantries when she felt her pocket vibrate. She excuses herself to look at it and with a sigh and smile, she allows herself to linger on her many memories of the message’s sender.

“ _ You turn me on with your words and your emotions, mon amour. Je t'aime. You’re going to be great. _ ” 

\-----

**July 3, 2014 - Semifinals**

“Another day, another match” is either a reality a tennis player dreads or hopes for.  Nobody plays competitive professional tennis to come out second best, and for somebody who hasn’t strung wins in quite a while, the phrase comes burdened with pressure and heartbreak. Losing is a habit and it’s easy to think that another match will net the same results, no matter how much effort is put in to reverse the script.

On the flipside, the reality that there is another match in the not-so-distant future where mistakes can be corrected and where what-ifs can be answered is a prospect filled with promises of sweet breakthroughs. In this perspective, a tennis player can treasure a gift so rarely given in real life that could help produce a career-best performance – the gift of a second chance, the rare chance to right one’s wrongs.

“It’s all optics,” Sarah said to Cosima the night before the Wimbledon semifinals. “And you’re the only one who can decide if another match with Sharapova is a burden or a blessing.” 

The people coming to Centre Court for today’s semifinals expect fireworks and excitement from first shot to last. It’s safe to say that the crowd’s support is split between the European champion - a statuesque blonde who captured the collective hearts of fans by winning Wimbledon as a teenager; and the American upstart – the clear underdog who has been gaining a huge following not only for her on-court accomplishments but also for her off-court activities.

“Either you’re a romantic or a realist,” Evert says from the bunker-like commentators’ booth right underneath the players’ box. “If you’re a realist, you’d look at Sharapova and see a winner. She just won Roland Garros, she’s the better player on grass, she has a winning record against Niehaus - who's still probably carrying residual scar tissue from that French Open match a month ago. But if you’re a romantic, you’d shuck the odds, the stats, recent history and think that Niehaus is going to get her revenge.”

“So, Chrissie, are you a romantic or a realist?” Sam, the play-by-play commentator, asks as Cosima and Maria emerge from the tunnels to enter the Centre Court cauldron and take their respective chairs. 

“Against reason and better judgment,” Chrissie smirks, “I’ve always been a romantic at heart.”

Having a short memory works wonders in an individual sport like tennis. Forgetting a loss - especially a bad loss, is vital in changing one’s perception about a match. Easier said than done as any player who has suffered a heartbreaking defeat – the kind where a couple of points spelled the difference - would tell anybody willing to listen. Given a choice, a tennis player would rather lose beatdown city-style. Lopsided losses can be attributed to a bad day at the office or to a nagging injury. But in near wins, there is only one person to blame: the player who let the match slip away from their grasp.

On Parisian clay courts, Cosima was off to a blistering start - running, sliding, and retrieving like a graceful gazelle on the way to establishing a dominant 6-3 first set win. But the script from the French Open semifinals seems to have been flipped in Sharapova’s favor as she pockets the Wimbledon semi’s first set with the same scoreline. The American Niehaus employed the same gameplan she used in the Venus Williams match – pushing her serves to the limit to orchestrate rallies. But Sharapova isn’t a 5-time champion for nothing. “She probably pored over the Venus match with her coach,” Felix deduces, “she knew what to expect.”

Maria’s ability to read Cosima’s first serves while taking advantage of the American’s fluffy second serve continued to pay dividends in the second set as she broke Cosima to take a 2-0 lead. “She has to believe,” Sarah tells a worried looking Gene, “that her game is worth something on grass...that she can rely on her usual style and combine it with a few new tricks.” Maybe it was the magic of mental telepathy or the familiarity and friendship born from years of working together, but in the third game of the second set, something changed. Up until that point, Cosima looked like a terribly limited player who had no faith in her net game and who refused to come in even if she’d already opened the court with a strong serve. 

But at this point, the point where Cosima has nothing left to lose, she adjusts. “Just run and don’t miss,” Cosima remembers Delphine saying over the phone last night. She found it cute - if things were that simple she would have had multiple slams by now. But surprisingly the tactic from her girlfriend, a tennis newbie, is working. Rather than try to dictate and end points against Sharapova, she kept hitting forcefully but wisely, making sure to not take too many risks. Failing to knock down Sharapova’s unexpected wall, she built a bigger, sturdier one herself. “Try to hit through me,” Cosima challenges her with every chase to return a shot and with every winner earned.

The shift in the match started in Sharapova’s hands and legs. Maybe it was fatigue or the slightest hint of complacency, but the allure of being ahead for a set and a break seems to have diminished the Russian’s conviction to move to the ball. Cosima may have wilted in Paris, but now she’s all in, taking advantage of the few seconds and inches that Sharapova gives her. She returns Maria’s shots deep within two feet of the baseline four or five times in any given rally, making her pay for the drama on clay by continuously applying pressure on grass.

And with the added pressure, Sharapova began to miss. The second set was done and dusted at 6-4, another repeat of the French Open second set scoreline, but this time it was Cosima who seemed to be writing a new story in the budding rivalry.

“Wouldn’t it be something if Cosima wins this match after being a break and a set down?” Sam comments during the lull before the third set.

“You can’t ask for a better script than that,” Chrissie replies, “but there’s still an eternity of tennis to be played, so let’s see.”

In the third set, it could no longer be denied that Maria, despite displaying tremendous fighting spirit, is gassed. “Those high intensity exercises are so worth it,” Felix says with a laugh, which earned him a pat on the back from Sarah. 

“It’s why we pay you the big bucks,” she replies as Cosima befuddles a heavy-footed Sharapova when she scored with an improvised smash after a looper. 

The shift in the match may have started in Sharapova’s hands, but it finished in Cosima’s. It wasn’t just her retrieving abilities which put more balls in that allowed her to fight back - it was also Cosima’s tranquility under pressure that sealed Maria’s fate this afternoon. Tranquility is a word that usually does not describe Cosima’s on-court demeanor, but today there’s no word more apt.

In the end, with a confuzzled opponent who’s reluctant to move, Cosima completed the grudge match winning the third set and the match 3-6, 6-4, 6-1. Cosima’s new reality – playing in her first Wimbledon finals in two days - immediately sinks in as soon as Maria’s last shot hits the high part of the net. She looks towards her box with a wicked grin, her right hand holding the racquet, the other making a fist pump before covering a mouth agape in both awe and disbelief. “I wish Delphine is here,” Sally says in the middle of the group hug between her husband, Sarah, and Felix.

“Someone told me that I should just run and try not to miss,” Cosima says in her post-match interview when she was asked what she was thinking during the match.

“Who told her that?” Gene asks Sarah and Felix, who exchanged confused looks as they watch the interview, realizing that they’re at the precipice of something huge. 

  
\----

**July 5, 2014 - Finals**

“You two,” Sally points to Sarah and Felix with mock anger, “have some explaining to do.”

“What? Why?” Felix spouts innocently – only for Sally to give him a stern  _ don’t you lie to me _ face. “Okay, whatever it is, it was all Sarah’s idea...”

“What are you, 14?” And Sarah shoves Felix with her elbow. “Just what is it that you’re pinning on us?”

It was a piece of good news for Sally that Wimbledon is friendlier towards smoking patrons compared to other tournaments. Here, she didn’t need to get out of the stadium and walk kilometers under the punishing heat of the sun just so she can smoke. All she needed was to find an open area with no queues and “look for bins filled with cigarette butts,” said an usher. And given the enormity of the occasion, boy did Sally need a cigarette before Cosima’s match.

“Do you need a light?” A voice with a familiar lilt and timbre asked her when her sweaty and shaky hands couldn’t fire up the cheap, disposable lighter.

“Honey!?!?” And Delphine barely started nodding before she got wrapped in a hug. 

“I saw you from afar and figured you can use the company,” Delphine supplied while she lit Sally’s cigarette.

“What are you doing here? And what’s with your hair?” Sally blew the initial puff of smoke as she touched the unfamiliar brown tresses and eyed Delphine's bangs.

“Oh,” Delphine pointed at it with the fingers hugging a lit cigarette, “it’s my disguise,” lightly lifting the wig to show her real hair. “I straightened it at first but somebody still recognized me, so I got this.”

Sally could only nod. Cosima’s explanation about Delphine ( _ “She had work and she said she didn’t want to be a distraction” _ ) was filled with holes which she hoped Sarah or Felix would fill but didn’t. “When did you arrive?” And Delphine offered her a strawberry which she gladly took.

“I never left,” Delphine confided, “I’m sorry for lying to Cosima, but I think it was for the best – look where we are now.”

“Oh that,” and Sarah - suddenly feeling a bit hot, unzips her cardigan, “it was Delphine’s idea,” figuring that Sally likes Delphine too much for her to be angry for what they did. To be fair, it really was Delphine’s idea.

“So you’re asking us to lie to her?” Sarah asked Delphine over pints of beer in a local pub where she and Felix used to hang out.

“Well, not really,” Felix answered for Delphine, “she’s just asking us to help her hide,” and he ordered another round of drinks. It was Felix who told her about Delphine’s plan: step away from the picture and give Cosima her space to focus. “I think it’s sweet if you ask me,” and Felix slid a ticket over the bar for Cosima’s first round match. “No.3 Court, Gangway 1, Row H, Seat 216 - close enough to the action but far enough to be inconspicuous.”

“Fine, I’m in,” Sarah said, inspecting the ticket, “but I’ll deny involvement when the shit hits the fan, yeah? We can drop off the tickets here,” and she thanked Bobbi, the bartender, for their drinks. “It’s funny you chose this pub,” she said with an amused grin after a gulp.

“Fee suggested it,” Delphine said, unable to hide a smile from her face as she finished her pint.

“This pub was Sarah’s first sponsor,” Felix pointed to a picture of a girl with a trophy at the back of the bar, “they gave us money for racquets and Kinesio tapes,” and he smiled at the memory. “S used to sing here with her band,” and he pointed to another photo of a younger, rock star-like Siobhan.

“In our defense,” Felix says now, “her ticket today came from Rachel, so you can blame her too." 

“And it was her who planted the story about Delphine leaving London,” Sarah spills while pointing to where Rachel is sitting in the royal box. But as Sally tells Gene about Delphine, the court begins to erupt with polite applause - Cosima and her opponent, 20-year-old Eugenie Bouchard of Canada, enter the stage with bouquets of flowers. The Niehaus Box seems to hold their collective breaths as Cosima sets down the flowers and her bag to take out a racquet.

\-----

“ _ Yeah, I know Delphine Cormier. She’s everywhere in Montreal – billboards, TV, movies. It’s hard to miss her. It’s good that my opponent is dating her, I guess. But I don’t really care about that – I just want to be the Wimbledon Champion tomorrow. _ ”

“She seems a bit crass,” Delphine said over the phone while watching Bouchard’s post-semifinal press conference.

“You know,” and she sensed the mischievous tone of Cosima’s voice, “you can cheer for her if you like - you guys being Quebecois and all...Wouldn’t want you being called a Canadian traitor.”

“Non,” and she caressed the empty side of her bed, “I’m your number 1 fan, ma chérie...”

“Like a groupie...” Cosima continued to tease. “So, what are you wearing?”

“Oh no...” Delphine chuckled, “no phone sex tonight. You need to sleep.”

“I think the concept of groupies is lost on you, babe,” and Delphine heard the rustling of sheets on the other end of the line. “For starters, a groupie always tails their idol. Funny, I don’t see you here...”

“Well, I know you’ll let me make it up to you, mon amour...”

Being here now to watch Cosima play the finals, Delphine remembers the many times over the course of two weeks when she had been tempted to stop the charade and just show up at the rented house in SW 20. She wanted nothing more but to hug and kiss Cosima after the third round match - a rollercoaster filled with stomach-churning dips and highs. She was hoarse from cheering her lungs out during the Kvitova match, and she went through a pack of nicotine gum during the Sharapova match, leaving her a bit nauseated after. 

“Just one more match and you can come clean,” she tells herself now as she subtly fixes her wig. Delphine continues to convince herself that lying to Cosima felt wrong but it was for the best - she made it to the finals without the distraction of a tag-along girlfriend.  _ Is it always going to be like this? _ Delphine asks herself.  _ Perhaps _ , she answers her own question, but it’s okay because it’s for Cosima.

Rachel got her good seats, Delphine thought as she bows her head when Cosima sat on the chair facing her. Sarah and Felix did a good job getting her in the past six matches, even going as far as inviting spectators in the player’s box for the fourth round match. She was expecting to sit next to Sally and Gene, and she was already coming up with an explanation for her being here when Felix texted that they couldn’t make the match because of delays.

She watches Cosima warm up. After saying goodbye last night, Delphine called Sarah to ask her usual question the night before a match:  _ What are her chances? _ Sarah’s answer didn’t exactly bring her comfort. 

“Bouchard defeated a player that plays like Cosima in her semis.”

“But Halep twisted her ankle in the first set,” Delphine reasoned.

“Yeah, but she’s still coming to tomorrow’s match confident that she can win against a defender,” and Sarah’s worries flowed right through the conversation. ”Look, we have a plan. Let’s just hope and believe, yeah?” 

Hope and believe, Delphine thinks now as Cosima gets ready to receive - that’s all she’s been doing these past two weeks. She takes a deep breath and wears her dark glasses, bracing herself for the beginning of the match.

She knew that Cosima devoted almost an hour to practicing receives yesterday, something the American does not usually do. Watching her now, Delphine realizes why Cosima made room for it – she needed to accurately read Bouchard’s shots today. Cosima came out roaring in the first set, not only figuring out her opponent’s serves but also making sure to finish shots confidently by using her speed to accurately hit on the run or chase after drop shots. The serves she’s been practicing since last year also has an unusual pop this afternoon, particularly down the T – which is something that she’s sure Sarah is thrilled about.

A text from Felix momentarily took her eyes away from the action:  _ 0 unforced errors! _ After just 11 minutes, Cosima is up 4-0 in the first set. Her younger opponent seems nervous, as if somebody poured cement in her shoes. It’s what her untrained eyes saw in the Canadian’s last service game – Bouchard seemed nailed to the grass as she served out wide, the serve eventually bludgeoned by Cosima for a backhand winner.

In the next game, Bouchard puffs out her cheeks after finally winning a game in the most encouraging way – a love game. “Come on, chérie,” Delphine continues to nervously chant, getting the attention of her seatmate, “come on.” 

“A Genie fan?” The male seatmate cheerily asks while his friends look on. They were donning casual blazers in formal hues of black, beige and gray that Delphine didn’t notice their identical white shirts with the Canadian Maple Leaf and the words “Genie’s Army” splattered on them. 

“Yes,” Delphine plays along to avoid blowing her cover.

“Don’t worry! Niehaus is a choker! A mental wreck,” the guy next to her seatmate tells her in between swigs of champagne. “We’ll get this baby in three.”

“ _ I will cut you with a razor blade, _ ” Delphine thinks, betraying the timid smile she gives him.

“And we have more star power,” the odd-guy-out in a tacky powder blue blazer from three seats down chimes in. “We have Sheldon Cooper in our box.”

“Granted that Delphine Cormier is way hotter,” Delphine’s seatmate wolf-whistles and they laugh. “Are you watching alone? Do you want -”

“I’m with my girlfriend,” she says matter-of-factly, catching herself at the last minute to stop before pointing to Cosima on court.  _ So much for good seats _ ...They may get the wrong idea about her allegiance, but Delphine wants that fact to be perfectly clear. 

With her seatmates back to leaving her alone, she refocuses her attention on the match. For a minute, she worried that the ghosts of Paris would show up in the sixth game as Cosima made her first unforced error on deuce. “Oh no, please, no,” she uttered as Cosima prepares to serve. Her pleas were answered when Bouchard hit a forehand wide, followed by a smart redirection of the youngster’s groundstrokes, and punctuated by an ace. 5-1 in 20 minutes, Cosima is a game away from winning the first set.

“Don’t relax,” Delphine whispers as Bouchard holds again for 5-2. All her nerves about Cosima’s ability to close the set were put to rest after an unbelievable exchange in which Cosima had to use all her defensive skills to get her backhand back into play before forcing a mistake from her opponent. She pockets the first set at 6-2 in 26 long minutes after Bouchard’s go-for-broke forehand sailed wide.

_ What a difference two weeks of winning makes _ , Delphine thought, as she recognizes the same balletic grace that Cosima displayed in Paris.  _ But can she keep it up? _ The cynical voice in her head asks. Seemingly surrounded by Genie fans, she regrets declining Sally’s offer to sit with them as Bouchard seems to have woken up from her stupor, showing glimpses of her skills as she holds 0-1 to kick off the second set.

But her cheeky American girlfriend refuses to star in a come-from-behind story. In the games that followed, Cosima - through her defense - forced her young opponent to rally. And when the rallies lasted longer, she tirelessly won most of them. Delphine can see Eugenie upping the ante by taking the ball early, trying to catch Cosima off-guard and off-position. But she’s too quick and focused to be derailed by it.

By the 44 th minute, Cosima broke Bouchard for the first time in the second set. Four minutes later, she consolidated the break and the score is now 4-2. In the game that followed, she found herself looking down on the floor while rubbing her forehead, making a mental note to ask Cosima how she deals with the pressure. But with all seemingly lost, Bouchard began to mount a comeback, hitting an ace and forcing an error. Cosima refuses to budge though as she matches the gear change with a laser-like backhand down the line.

\----- 

In the past, Cosima often got in trouble for getting ahead of herself. She used to study draws until the wee hours of the night, overthinking not only her first match but the succeeding ones that eventually do not follow because she lost the first one. There are also many times in matches when she relaxed upon realizing she’s ahead, giving opponents a chance to turn things around in their favor.

She’s been doing a good job at taking it ball-by-ball today, but as the cheers got louder and harder to tune out, she allows herself to acknowledge the scoreboard for the first time this afternoon. Walking to her chair to towel off and drink, the numbers she saw scared her at first. But as she looked at her box and at a random section where she imagined Delphine is sitting, she let the score sink in.

_“6-2, 5-2”_, she thinks, “_okay,_ _it’s real now,”_ and the thought calmed her. The sooner this tournament is over, the sooner she gets to be with Delphine.

“Time,” the umpire announces and she gamely stands up and walks to her service line. She jogs into place as Eugenie gets ready on the other side of the court. She bounces the ball four times, tosses it, and propels herself for a serve that Eugenie attempted to return with a forehand that clipped the net. “15 – love.”

She walks to the other side of her court and receives two balls from a ball kid. She inspects them, choosing which ball is going to give her a few added mph, picks one, bounces it twice and serves it to the middle which Genie returns via an outstretched forehand. She returns to test her opponent’s backhand which almost got her into trouble as the shot landed deep, but Cosima got to it in time to return it with her backhand. Genie decides to have a go at it with her forehand that sailed out. “30 - love.”

_ “Where to now?” _ Cosima asks herself as she prepares for another serve. She decided to try to hit near the middle again, thinking that an outstretched backhand reception will be more error-prone. She guessed right and got herself another ace. “40 – love.”

“ _ Three match points, _ ” she thinks. “ _ Three championship points, _ ” her mind screams. Cosima tries to suppress the growing noise as she lets out her serve.

“Let! First service,” the umpire says.  _ “At least it’s not a fault,”  _ and Cosima grabs a ball from her tight shorts under the skirt to redo her first serve.

“Let! First service,” and she begins to hear the crowd’s collective murmurs. “ _ Quiet, _ ” she commands herself. “ _ One more and it’s over. Just stay quiet. _ ” And Cosima bounces the ball twice and finally her body serve sails over the net. The return was good and targeted her forehand, she returned it to the forehand side, and then the ball clips the low part of the net.

“Game, set, and match, Miss Niehaus. 6-2, 6-2.”

“Holy watershed!”

Cosima sank to her knees on the grass, raising her arms still holding the racquet as she looked to her box and the imagined Delphine section. She quickly gets up and jogs towards the net to shake hands with Genie and the umpire. She was on her knees again after, head bowed, unsure if she’s crying or maniacally laughing amidst the amplified applause.

Back on her feet again, she quickly thanks the royal box and the crowd. She then looks at her team: at the sight of Felix unabashedly bawling his eyes out, at Sarah raising her hands in victory while trying not to cry, at her parents jumping up and down in glee. Euphoria and adrenaline led her to run towards them. Using the railing by the scoreboard right in front of the commentators’ booth as a ladder, she climbs up to the box. Somebody from below gave her a boost, allowing Felix to reach in and hoist her up.

“You’re crazy,” Sarah says and it’s only fitting that she’s the first to get a hug. “What have I been telling you? Grass is your fucking friend!” It wasn’t long before Felix joined them, taking off his sunglasses and giving Cosima a kiss on the cheek. “Shots on me, Fee!” She says before moving on to Gene who has gone teary-eyed at the sight. “I’m so proud of you, Cos,” and she gives him a kiss on the cheek.

“You look calm, Mom,” Cosima says to Sally, who had a hand over her mouth to suppress her sobs. “I love you,” she whispers to her ear as they hugged. When their eyes meet again, Sally has a huge grin on her face. 

“Section 209, Row A, Seat 87.”

“What?”

“I have a feeling you'll find who you’re looking for there,” she winks and Cosima quickly looks around in search of it. She hops out of her box and paces to make her way two sections to her left, getting pats on the back and congratulations from the crowd. She managed a  _ thank you _ every once in a while, but she wants nothing more but to see the occupant of that seat.

And there she is - blonde hair mussed, hazel eyes red from crying, perfect lips quivering. Cosima was already at the edge of the row when Delphine saw her. Recognizing what’s about to happen, the spectators nearby clear a path. Cosima runs to jump in Delphine’s waiting arms, wrapping her legs around her hips for a breathtaking kiss. The Centre Court cameras zoom in, the photographers’ lenses clicking towards their direction as the crowd laps it up and cheers. But Cosima hears nothing but the beating of her heart and the sound of lips deliciously reuniting after weeks of being touch-starved.

“My little ruse worked,” Delphine gently brings her down only to hug her tight, not quite ready to share her Cosima with the audience.

“No,” and she nuzzles Delphine’s neck, smelling her perfume mixed with sweat. “Delphine, I can lose a tournament in the first round and you would still be there. Suddenly, a trophy seems so small compared to what we have, what you are to me. I love you so much.” And she can feel Delphine melting at her words so she kisses her again.

“Je t'aime aussi,” and Cosima rests her forehead on Delphine's. She didn’t want this moment to end but a tournament representative tapped her shoulder. Looking out on the court, she can see the stage was set and she’s the only one missing.

“Go,” Delphine says, giving her a peck on the cheek, “your trophy awaits.” Felix, who followed Cosima, urges her to go to the court while telling her that he’ll take Delphine back to their box. She takes one more longing look at the woman she loves as she goes back.  _ I found what I am looking for _ .

\-----

_ My goodness... _ The commentator said as Cosima inadvertently looked to the camera before gazing forward to no one and nothing. She wiped her upper lip with a towel as the first batch of teardrops fell, her mouth slightly open to exhale tired breaths and the quietest of sobs.  _ All she can savor now is the defeat _ , the accompanying voiceover continued while the footage played on the big screens.  _ She was a break up in the decider - Li Na was on the ropes... _

And then the chants started. Timidly at first: “Co-si-ma, Co-si-ma,” before it grew boisterous and lively: “CO-SI-MA! CO-SI-MA!”

She managed a smile, genuine but sad: the bravery going well with the dignified loss. She raised her hand to acknowledge the crowd that somehow - amidst the controversies - pulled for her to win the Australian Open. As the cheers got louder, Cosima pressed her palms on her face to catch the tears, removing them to let out a sniffle before wiping her eyes with a towel. It was all too much.  _ The hope is that she gets to enjoy her accomplishments and eventually learn how to close pressure-packed matches in the future.  _

Five months later and Cosima - all smiles, the tip of her tongue showing in between teeth - has finally gotten a taste of sweet victory.  _ Niehaus is not only a great athlete _ , one of the Wimbledon finals commentators said,  _ she wears the struggles of a match on her face. She doesn’t necessarily beat herself into submission anymore but you can still see the war rage - not against her opponents - but against herself. It’s effortful which is relatable. And when she wins, her whole face lights up - showing to all of us that while she proudly shows her battle scars, winning is a great look for her too. _

“I’m glad to see you out of that wig,” Sally says as she gives Delphine a hug when she finally joins the player’s box. She was proud of herself for looking at Delphine’s ticket when she asked her if it’s better than the box seats.

“Congratulations, Gene,” Delphine says when she sees him while hugging Cosima’s mom. She was surprised when he enveloped them both in his arms.

“You’re making us feel worse about missing the fourth round,” he says, “we could have had dinner if we knew earlier.”

“That was a stroke of genius, pinning everything on the girlfriend,” Felix smirks to Sarah. “You can cry, you know,” as he shows her a text from Siobhan - “ _ I am so proud of you, chickens, _ ” along with a photo of their teary Mum and a smiling Kira. 

“Maybe later,” Sarah says with a deep breath, her eyes meeting Rachel Duncan’s. She gives her a nod and a tight smile, surprised when it’s returned her way.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, it’s time for the trophy presentation for the Ladies’ Singles,” and the crowd goes quiet to welcome the Duke of Kent - the president of the All England Lawn Tennis Club, and other various club officials. Cosima stands up and claps after wearing a cardigan and re-tying her bun.

The crowd applauds Eugenie Bouchard for her efforts, remembering her remarkable road to the finals. “She was the favorite to win,” Felix tells Delphine, “this was supposed to be her crowning moment as this generation’s Sharapova.”

“Too bad Cos spoiled her party,” Sarah quips.

“And the Ladies’ Singles Champion for 2014, Cosima Niehaus!” The stadium broke into cheers and whistles, while Gene and Delphine whipped out their cameras as Cosima walked towards her trophy.

“It’s a good thing Rachel made her practice how to curtsy,” Felix comments, pointing at Cosima receiving the Venus Rosewater Dish from the Duke.

“It’s a nice curtsy,” Sarah says, remembering doing the same thing when she won the Girls’ title. “Up, up,” she then screams, “lift the bloody dish up!” And Cosima with a beaming smile lifts the trophy, turning towards them as Gene and Delphine snap photos.

“Have you ever played a better match on grass than that?” The announcer asks Cosima after Eugenie gives her runner-up speech.

“Never,” Cosima says with a chuckle which made the crowd laugh. “It was the match of my career and against Genie, you have to give your best all the time. Congratulations to Genie and her team. You’re gonna go far.”

“How does it feel holding that famous trophy, your first grand slam?”

“It’s unbelievable. It’s very special. I will never forget this day because it was my Dad’s dream. When I played juniors here, he said that I should play the finals of Wimbledon if I want to accomplish something in tennis. The day came so thanks to my Dad, to my parents actually.”

“And she did okay Dad, didn’t she?” Gene nods at the announcer as he openly wept, the hand holding the camera shaking before Sally gets it to take the video. “We all saw you climb to your box in one of the sweetest celebrations in recent history. Would you like to say a little word to your parents, to your team?”

“Yeah, of course. To my parents, I love you. Thank you for allowing and supporting my crazy dreams. I’m so lucky to be your daughter. To Rachel Duncan, my agent, thank you. And of course to my team...I love you guys. Felix, I no longer hate you for your training, man. Bring on the pain,” and the audience laughs along with Cosima. “And Sarah - because of you I’ve become a better person on-court and off-court, thank you very much.”

There was tremendous applause when Cosima acknowledged Sarah. It was partly a British victory after all - the American player guided for years by the brash British coach, herself once touted as a potential champion. “Thank you to everybody – the fans, ballkids, tournament employees, people in the locker room.”

Cosima was about to thank and gush about Delphine in front of the 14,000-strong crowd when the announcer spoke. “We also saw you run towards your girlfriend, Delphine Cormier, and we were surprised she’s not in your box. What’s the story behind that and what do you have to say to her?”

“Believe me, I was surprised too,” and her eyes twinkled when she saw Delphine in her box now, arms draped around Sarah and Felix’s shoulders. “These past two weeks made me play free,” and she couldn’t stop looking at the blonde, “because I know for certain that you are more important than anything. Life’s little, happy accidents paved the way for us to cross paths, but I don’t want to leave our future to chance because you are the tenterhook on which I hang my life on. Thank you...Je t'aime.”

There was thundering applause and cheers, the cameras whirring to capture what’s happening on court and in the player’s box. But Cosima just looks at Delphine in the middle of her coronation, and the noise seems to die down.  _ I love you, _ Cosima lipreads Delphine’s mouthed words and she can’t help but blush. For as long as they hold the other’s gaze, nothing else seems to matter.

“You know what this means, don’t you blondie?” Felix says to Delphine, interrupting the stolen moment as Cosima lifts her trophy. “We need to go shopping for a dress. We have a ball to attend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if you guys love long reads, I hope you do because this chapter ran long :). My continued thanks and appreciation to everybody giving this story a chance. I hope you enjoy this latest chapter.
> 
> A special thanks again to my friend Corsan who always makes time to beta-read and give feedback on chapters when they're nothing but incomplete ramblings. Busy schedules and life's current complications aside, I'm thankful for the friendship you have extended me. :)
> 
> I hope you are all well and staying safe wherever you are reading this from. Feel free to post any tennis-related questions you may have (the 2014 Wimbledon champion was Petra Kvitova btw). See you in the next chapter.


	24. One More Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The entire chapter is from Delphine's perspective. And I'm also changing the rating from T to M. :D

**Seven Hours after the Wimbledon Finals**

While Cosima charmed the Centre Court, a club official approached the Niehaus Box with instructions about what happens next. “After this,” the woman in a purple dress said while pointing to Cosima as she posed with her trophy, “she will make her way inside the club room to see her name engraved in the Honor’s Board. Then she goes upstairs to meet members of the Royal Family. We need two representatives from your box to be there.”

Delphine shook her head when Sally and Gene looked at her. It’s Cosima’s moment and she had stolen enough limelight with that kiss on the stands. “You two should be there,” she said with a smile.

“And I’ll be waiting around the corner by the locker room,” Sarah said, “I’m not exactly dressed for meeting royalty,” she kidded as she tried to comb through her unruly hair.

“We’ll meet you back in the gardens,” Felix added. They watched the rest of Cosima’s winning moment from there, with Felix accepting congratulations from other physios and trainers while Delphine was glued to the big screen. She lit up as she watched Cosima reading her own name on the winner’s board; when she went up the club room, welcomed with applause and hugs; when she made an awkward but charming curtsy for the Royal Family; and when she lifted her trophy in the balcony as onlookers cheered and took photos. The last image shown on the screen was Cosima hugging Sarah before she went inside the Ladies’ Dressing Room.

It wasn’t long before Cosima’s parents and Sarah joined them in the gardens, with reporters incessantly requesting interviews. Sarah took one for the team, granting a rare interview with the Wimbledon broadcast team. As Sarah wore a mic, Felix openly flirted with the interviewer - who seemed to be someone they knew from way back. Delphine was in the middle of planning an early dinner with Gene and Sally when Cosima showed up with Rachel and more cameras in tow.

“You have a lot of explaining to do later, Cormier,” she cheekily said as they hugged, playfully nipping an earlobe which made her blush.

“You really want to spend the night of your victory talking?” Delphine teased. “I may have other activities planned...”

“Ooh, planned huh?” And Cosima couldn’t help but toy with her blonde locks. “Care to give me a spoiler?”

“Come home and find out.” Delphine was about to give her a kiss – a small preview of what’s to come, but she stopped when Rachel cleared her throat, conveying her intention to move things along.

It’s a very happy day, Delphine thinks now. And remembering everything that happened: Cosima’s smile after match point; the climb to the box; the way she looked at her when she found her - the mixture of curiosity, relief, and happiness in the brunette’s eyes; their kisses; the trophy; is making her forget the problems waiting for her when she leaves London.

As the looming uncertainties began to play in her mind, she turned the TV on to look for a channel showing the finals replay. Delphine sits on the bed and leans on the headboard when she finds it, comforted by the thought that watching the match again would allay her concerns for now. She was drifting to a shallow sleep when the door knob twisted open, and through tired eyes, the worries momentarily floated away when she saw Cosima.

“So this is your big plan?”And Cosima gives her a kiss on the forehead before unzipping her cardigan and throwing it on the bench at the foot of the bed. “A slumber party? Because I’m down for it,” and she hops into bed after taking off her shoes, laying her head on Delphine’s lap. “Hi,” she says as Delphine massages her scalp, “have you been here long?”

“Yes, two weeks,” Delphine plays along, “stalking you from afar like a groupie.”

“So I’ve been told,” Cosima begins to lace their fingers together, “Sarah filled me in...”

“I’m sorry,” Delphine whispers, “for lying to you about leaving and -”

Cosima lovingly cups Delphine’s chin with one hand, “you have nothing to be sorry for,” and she gets up to straddle Delphine. “I was actually dreading coming home tonight...coming home to an empty room. So you here – that’s all that matters,” and with Cosima being so close and saying all the right things, Delphine couldn’t help herself from seeking more warmth as she tugs on the sides of Cosima’s shirt before lifting them off. She places soft kisses on Cosima’s chest before coasting her lips on a small birthmark right at the brunette’s toned tummy. It wasn’t long before Cosima took off her sports bra, making Delphine remove her own shirt. “Now this is more like it,” and Cosima caresses the blonde's nipple. 

Delphine shushes Cosima with a kiss as she lays her flat, her head by the foot of the bed. She removes the black trousers and foot socks, sneaking in a soft laugh at the garment’s unfamiliar length having been so fond of Cosima’s signature knee-high socks. She feels Cosima’s heat through her underwear and a moan escapes Delphine’s lips at the feel of how much she is wanted.

“What’s with the hold-up?” Cosima looks at her teasingly while her head rests behind her hands.

“Just checking if you really missed me,” Delphine coos as she removes her own sleep pants along with her underwear.

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” And Delphine assists Cosima in removing the undergarment, her eyes taking in the moisture glistening between the brunette’s legs. The sight, paired with the two weeks of tension and longing, made Delphine surge forward to not only have a closer look, but to have a taste. 

Everytime she goes down on Cosima, she is reminded of the first time she did it - in Berkeley at the Niehaus’ cottage. She was too conscious then, afraid that the inexperience would show with every tentative lap. But like the first time they played tennis together, Cosima was an eager teacher in bed - guiding her with verbal instructions first, then with hands holding the back of her head when her words have been replaced by pillow-muffled moans. 

“Oh God, I missed you so freaking much,” Cosima says in between moans. Hearing Cosima and seeing her lidded eyes, Delphine swells with pride at how much she has improved since then – at how the eager teacher has met an equally eager student. Instructions are no longer necessary, and the hand holding her head no longer guides but is holding on so as not to flutter away. 

Delphine is now so in touch with Cosima’s body that she knows when her fingers should join the fray. “I love you,” Cosima says as the fingers pumping in and out and the tongue sucking on a throbbing clit pushes her to come hard. Delphine takes her lips away to kiss Cosima’s thigh as her fingers slowly pull out to gently circle a stimulated bud. She looks at her face, at closed eyes and lips forming an O, as her fingers return to be deep inside Cosima, timing it well knowing how much her girlfriend loves multiple orgasms.

“Very good plan,” Cosima breathes out as she gives in a second time before pulling Delphine up to give her a savory kiss. “Very, very good plan...” 

“That’s just half of it,” and with a kiss on a cheek, Delphine leans back to reach and open the bedside drawer.

“Please tell me I’m wearing it,” Cosima says, re-echoing her initial reaction when Delphine gave it to her as a naughty birthday gift. And just like then, Delphine nods as she guides the harness and the skin tone-colored toy up Cosima’s legs. She smirks as she removes her glasses, only for Delphine to stop her. And as the brunette adjusts the harness snugly, Delphine reaches inside the drawer to grab some lube, straddling Cosima just in time before she could sit up.

“You need to rest, chérie,” she says, her hand lightly pushing Cosima back on the mattress. She wants to give her a show and with one final slippery tug, Delphine slowly lowers herself down as Cosima guides her with her hands on her hips. She takes one of her girlfriend’s hands, bringing it to a bouncing breast and as Cosima watches, she trails one of her own hands down her folds. Delphine’s touch and thrust quickens and increases. She lets out a breathy smile when she realizes she’s not the only one moaning in the room.

“Cosima,” she says as she reaches her peak, “Je t'aime,” and with one final grind, she collapses on her, shaking as the orgasm spreads through her body. Cosima gently turns them over, removing the harness and pushing it out of the bed. Delphine allows herself to be held as sleep claims them, finding comfort in the fact that the uncertainties have not spilled over to what she and Cosima have.

\----- 

**July 6, 2014: Morning after the Finals**

To Delphine’s relief, the comfort she felt the night before spilled over in the morning as Cosima pressed closer to her. She smiles as she wakes up from a good night’s sleep – something that had eluded her for a week now. Carefully, she turns to face her sleeping girlfriend, giving her a soft kiss on the forehead before gently getting out of bed for a cup of coffee.

Downstairs, she sees Felix by the kitchen island pouring milk on a bowl of Cheerios. “Good morning,” she whispers so as not to startle him. He mumbles a reply as she gets a cup. “Have you already picked what you’re going to wear tonight?” He asks before eating a spoonful of cereal.

“Oui,” she says as she grabs the coffee pot and the carton of milk beside Felix’s bowl. Rachel has sent available options for dresses while she had an early dinner with Cosima’s parents yesterday. She picked something simple and she’s showing her choice to Felix who has a smirk on his face.

“It’s a lovely dress,” he says, showing off the tux he’s going to wear and sharing how he plans to accentuate it. Delphine knows that Felix is trying to distract her with dress options and things that can happen at the Champions Dinner tonight. She lets out a forced smile and Felix picking up on it took on a more serious tone.

“So have you told her yet?” He asks as he helps himself to a cup of coffee.

Delphine shakes her head as she gets up to fill an electric kettle with water so Felix can have his preferred cup of tea. “It can wait until we’re back in the States,” and she grabs an empty cup and a tea box as the water boils.

“Thanks,” and Felix picks a bag of black tea. “But why wait?”

“I don’t want to steal her thunder,” Delphine answers as she stirs her coffee, fighting the urge to step out to the garden with her cup to light a cigarette. “And besides, this is supposed to be a happy day. Me firing Aldous...Suddenly having no agent, that’s not exactly good news.”

The last months of their working relationship may have been contentious at best, but Delphine still cannot deny Leekie's contributions to her current success.  _ “I was waitressing in Montreal after conservatory,” _ she remembered telling Cosima in one of their email conversations.  _ “I did that for a year, but I did theater on the side too until a producer spotted me and gave me my first TV role. I was at a party for the TV show and that’s where I met Aldous. We got to talking because his French wasn’t very good and he said I should audition for English-speaking roles. A month later, I was signing up with him and getting a flat in Toronto. A year later, I got into Totentanz...among other things.” _

The sound of boiling water snaps her out of her thoughts as she sees Felix eyeing her carefully. “I don’t think that counts as stealing her thunder,” he answers as he pours water on the tea bag. “Though you may be right about not telling Cos – she’d be absolutely pissed about it.”

“Absolutely pissed about what?” Cosima asks as she emerges from the narrow hallway wearing a sweatshirt and sleep shorts. Felix shots Delphine an apologetic look before leaving with his breakfast, passing Cosima who’s now in the kitchen and giving her a small nod. 

“Delphine?” She says in her gentle voice when they’re alone in the kitchen. “Can you just talk to me?”

Delphine nervously bites her lip as she grabs another cup and pours coffee for Cosima. She hands it to her as she walks to the adjacent garden with her own mug, fishing her lighter and a cigarette from the pocket of her robe. “I fired Leekie,” she says on the bench facing the garden as Cosima takes a seat beside her.

“That’s great!” Cosima exclaims and Delphine couldn’t blame her for her reaction. After all, she’s the one who listens to her complain about him. “Or not,” she retracts when Delphine's lower lip remains trapped. “What happened? When?”

“Just last week, before your fourth round,” she confesses, but seeing Cosima’s face, Delphine knows that she has to answer the other part of her question - the part that could ruin this day for her.

“He was furious about me staying in London,” she started, “he said there were auditions and meetings I was missing – which is bullshit because I finished all my commitments in time for Paris and Wimbledon. He set me up to meet this big-shot American producer at a hotel here in London last Sunday. You may know it, The Weinstein Company? They’re making a boxing film and Aldous wants me to get the part of the boxer’s wife. So to get him off my case, I agreed to go.”

Delphine can see Cosima clutching on to her cup, trying her best to not interrupt her with more questions. “A few hours before the meeting, Albert called me and asked about you. He was so happy that you made the second week and told me that he wished he could watch live. I mentioned the meeting to him and he suddenly went quiet. I thought I lost him, but then he told me that he’s been an actor long enough to know that this producer is...bad news. That he knew women who were harassed by this man.”

By this point, Cosima has set the cup on the bench and while her face conveys worry, her clenched fist gives away the first blooms of anger. “Albert advised me to dress poorly - to not take off my coat. Or better yet, to bring someone along. I panicked so I called Felix. When I told him, he offered to come with me. He pretended to be my assistant,” and Delphine stubs the cigarette on an ashtray.

“He said he had a date,” Cosima supplies, “and Sarah and I gave him hell about going out the night before a match.” And Cosima takes off her glasses as she rubs her eyes in frustration. “He didn’t try anything, didn’t he?” 

Delphine nods, seeing the rage softened by the worry in Cosima’s eyes as she exhales a relieved breath. “Though he was very pissed when I showed up with Felix in his suite. The entire time, he made these angry phone calls – just screaming at whoever it was on the phone. It was the most uncomfortable one hour of my life. The entire time, I thought of what could have happened if I was alone with this man, if Albert had not called or if he chose to stay silent about it. I felt so...stupid. Even before Albert called, I had my suspicions but I still went. Later when I got back to my hotel, I called Aldous and asked him if he knew about this man’s indiscretions, his reputation. He couldn’t even deny it. I fired him right then and there. He’s threatening to sue me...I still have a year left in our contract,” Delphine says as she wipes angry tears from her eyes.

“I’m going to chop his balls off,” and Cosima gathers Delphine in her arms. “So what do we do now?”

“It’s my problem, chérie,” Delphine says, “I’ll talk to my lawyer when we get back and I -”

“No, it’s our problem,” Cosima corrects with a tinge of hurt in her voice. “Your problem is my problem and we’ll carry the weight together. You can’t shut me out of this so you might as well let me try to help.”

Whatever anger Cosima’s trying to conceal has already bubbled to the surface so Delphine agrees. “I’m sorry that I’m springing this up on the day of your champions dinner,” she says. 

“Thank you for telling me,” and Cosima kisses her on the cheek. Delphine was about to change the subject when Cosima abruptly stood up.

“I have an idea,” and with one quick kiss on her lips, Cosima returns inside the house.

\-----

**July 6, 2014: Five Hours before the Champions Dinner**

“So let me get this straight, you were there for all my matches...” Cosima tells Delphine, her head resting on the brunette’s lap as they hang out on the garden bench. It’s a perfect early afternoon - a great time to catch up on lost time, and Delphine is taking advantage of the few private hours she gets to spend with the Wimbledon champion before she has to share her with the world again.

“Yes,” Delphine says as she toys with Cosima’s hand – playing a sweet, nonsensical game of touching palms and lacing fingers. “I had great seats. Felix and Sarah got me in.”

“Yeah, except for the finals. Okay, semis with Sharapova, where were you?” Cosima asks - her tone playful and inquisitive.

“Section 302, Row T, Seat 41.” Delphine remembers because there was someone on her seat when she got to Centre Court. 

“Quarterfinals with Kvitova?” And Cosima twirls a loose blonde lock around her finger.

“Hmm, Section 309, Row H, Seat 178,” she remembers because Sarah got her away-from-the-sun tickets which she appreciated.

“Those are bad seats, babe,” Cosima says before kissing the tip of her nose. Delphine basks in the affection – she loves it when Cosima kisses her freckles.

“OI! I heard that,” Sarah says from the kitchen as she Skypes with Kira and Siobhan, “ungrateful bugger,” she jokes.

“I needed seats that were not too near so you wouldn’t see me – not that you would because you tune the crowd out, but I wanted to play safe.” Delphine sits up to pour themselves another glass of white wine when the doorbell rang.

“Ooh, that’s for me!” And Cosima gets up to answer the door. Delphine didn’t think much of it until Rachel Duncan stepped on the patio with a familiar disapproving look. It’s the most casual she has seen Cosima’s agent though – instead of an expensive business suit or a no nonsense dress, she’s wearing a gold, foil button-down blouse paired with black skinny pants. She almost looks approachable.

“Would you leave us, please,” she commands Sarah and Cosima.  _ No, definitely not approachable, _ Delphine corrects herself with a smirk.

Sarah leaves the kitchen without saying a word - not out of obedience, Delphine thinks, but simply because she can’t stand being in the same room with Rachel. “I’ll be in the kitchen,” Cosima says, giving Delphine an “ _ it’s okay” _ look before coming inside.

“I must say, this is a surprise,” and Rachel sits uncomfortably on a wooden lawn chair across her. “Cosima called me this morning asking for some advice about your situation. I took the liberty of taking a look at your contract with Aldous Leekie.”

_ Rachel Duncan is Cosima’s “idea”?  _ Delphine silently asks herself. It’s an idea alright, but whether it’s a good or bad idea remains to be seen. “You got a copy of my contract?” She asks aloud, trying to figure out how she came across it.

“Don’t sound so surprised, Miss Cormier. I have connections,” was Rachel’s explanation as she pulls off the copy from her black leather bag. “It’s a standard contract sans three red flags...”

Delphine knows exactly what Rachel is referring to – the terms she had to agree with and swallow when she was just starting out. “Firstly, you signed a 3-year contract when the standard is two. If this goes to litigation, we can use that.”

“I’m sorry,” and Delphine manages to let out a chuckle, “we?”

“Second,” Rachel continues without even answering her question, “it has a cyclical clause that basically means that if you decide to leave the agency, the work you get for the next six months after is still owed to them. That’s exploitative. We can use that too.”

From Delphine’s periphery, she can see Cosima listening intently to what Rachel is saying, pursing her lips as her agent reads one bad clause after another. She wanted to say, for Cosima's benefit, that she was going to leave Leekie after the contract, but Rachel beat her to it. “And saving the worst for last I quote: ‘ _ Artist hereby appoints Manager as his true and lawful attorney, to sign, make, execute and deliver any and all contracts in Artist's name, in connection with the engagement or employment of Artist's services in the entertainment industry _ ,” and Rachel stands up to get an unused glass and pour herself wine.

“That means he has full power over your career. I’m surprised he let you get away with your passion projects,” and she sips her drink while looking down on Delphine, “but then again he’s probably using that to build a case against you.”

“I understand I have a shitty contract,” Delphine finally lets out as Rachel takes her seat, “but why are you here?”

“We’re going to come to terms,” Rachel says, setting the glass down on the chair’s hand-rest, “not that you have any choice, lest you plan to derail your career with a lawsuit. That last clause means that he’s still your manager even if this goes to court, and I highly doubt that Aldous is going to book lucrative projects for a litigious client.”

“And what exactly is your role in this?” Delphine asks before lighting a cigarette.

“My proposal for you this afternoon is that I will take over your management,” a statement that made Delphine cough mid-puff.

“In exchange for what?”

“I assure you there are no strings attached,” Rachel says while taking a quick but unmistakable glance at Cosima. “Consider it a band-aid until you find a more permanent solution. We’ll put in place a 1-year contract with all the standard, non-exploitative clauses that you're not familiar with. My agency is going to handle everything - including quashing any potential lawsuits stemming from Aldous Leekie’s firing.”

“But as you said,” Delphine says, “he owns me with this contract.”

“I believe he can be dissuaded if we go public about that meeting he scheduled for you,” and Rachel dryly smirks, conveying to her that she has no issues playing dirty. “I’m going to assign a press agent to do initial damage control. And we’re going to further secure the roles you’ve already landed – the Curie biopic being the most important.”

“But you’re a sports agent,” Delphine says as a last-ditch effort to refuse Rachel’s proposal, “what do you know about my line of work?”

“I am a quick study,” and for the first time this afternoon, Rachel didn’t hide her disdain at whatever it is that's forcing her to offer this arrangement. “And besides,” she continues as she regained her steely composure, “there is a thin line between sports and entertainment. I’m sure I can manage. I’ll send the paperwork later. You can have your attorney look at it.” And with one last icy stare, she leaves the garden. “The car will be here at four p.m. sharp,” she managed to say to Cosima before seeing herself out.

“What did you do to make Duncan help me, chérie?” Delphine asks Cosima, worried that the brunette would be at the losing end of whatever deal she struck with Rachel.

“I made her an offer she can’t refuse,” the poor mimicry of a familiar film line diffusing whatever tension that came with Rachel’s visit.

\-----

**Champions Dinner**

“You shoulda told me,” Sarah says, tugging on the neckline of her dress. “Safety in numbers, S always says. I could have pretended to be your stylist.”

“Stylist, really?” Felix snickers as he fixes his silk red bow tie. “I could barely drag a comb through your hair this afternoon and you want to pretend to be blondie’s stylist?”

In the car on the way to the Guildhall, Delphine watches the impish interaction between brother and sister with amusement and a tinge of jealousy at not having siblings. She had seen many sides of Sarah and Felix in the nine months of being with Cosima. But this is the first time she’s seeing them in a red carpet setting – in an event that required them to be formal and to dress up.

Sarah is clearly outside her comfort zone, no matter how many times she and Felix say she looks good. She picked a nice frock for tonight: a black shimmery dress that looks like a formal and fancy take on a muscle tee, the simple cut looking totally different on a long gown. She chose to wear her hair down, completing a formal but edgy look. 

On the other side of the spectrum, Felix loved every fashion moment: from picking an outfit to prepping and dressing. Instead of a traditional black tux, he opted for the colorful bow tie and a white dinner jacket. “It’s Wimbledon,” he reasoned, “a little white is necessary.” He looks dapper, Delphine thinks.

“I think Cosima’s gay-ass heart will stop beating when she gets a hold of you,” Felix says now as Delphine applies lipstick. She believes she picked a good outfit– a simple white floor-length dress with cap sleeves and encrusted in monochromatic beading from head to toe. The simple silhouette is elegant but not too flashy to overshadow Cosima – the real star of the event, who went ahead of them because of press commitments.

While Delphine is used to dressing up, this is the first time she’s going to a formal event as Cosima’s girlfriend. It’s one of the things that she and Aldous constantly argued about ever since the relationship went public. She hated Aldous for treating her relationship as publicity candy even after she had made it clear to him that they intend to keep their relationship private.

“Bring Cosima so we can get more cameras _ , _ ” he instructed her numerous times - most recently in the London premiere of the superhero movie she’s part of a week before Wimbledon.

“You’re selling me,” she sternly reminded him when she said Cosima wasn’t coming, “not who I'm sleeping with. Do your job.”

He did try to sell her alright, and even if she luckily got out of that meeting unscathed, the what-ifs continue to linger in her mind.

“How did Cosima get Rachel to help me?” She asks while they wait on a red light. Delphine can almost hear the mental conversation between Felix and Sarah while they exchange knowing looks.

It was Sarah who spoke first. “She threatened to up and leave her.”

“There is this other agent who kept tailing Cosima during the second week,” Felix adds.

“Ferdinand Chevalier,” Sarah supplies as the car crosses the Thames. “He and Rachel hate each other.”

“Unsettled sexual tension,” Felix says with a wave of his hand. “Cosima’s contract with Rachel ends this year, so naturally he’s trying to pirate her.”

“He dangled a seven-figure signing bonus after Cosima won,” Sarah divulges, “so Cosima cut a deal with Rachel – help Delphine and I’ll stay with you.”

“So I cost Cosima a lucrative deal?” Delphine says, the lip biting threatening to ruin the impeccably placed makeup.

“Oh…” Felix says, “I think as far as Cos is concerned, there is no deal more lucrative than you. We’re here!”

Delphine alights from the car and sees Cosima from afar giving an interview. She lingers behind Sarah and Felix so she can look at her more intently. She thinks she looks very beautiful and vibrant in a sleeveless black dress with sheer panelling around the neck and a see-through lace adorned with poppy red starbursts that shows off her toned midriff.

She notices Cosima stopping from talking as her gaze shifts from the camera to where they are. The cheeky smile Delphine loves turns into something else – a look she only gives when they’re alone and naked in bed. She could kiss her right then and there.

“Wow,” Cosima says as she leans in for a chaste kiss on Delphine’s cheek, “just...wow.”

“You look very beautiful, mon amour,” Delphine says with an evident blush on her cheeks. They were happy to just stare at each other, until Rachel and Cosima’s parents joined them for official tournament photos.

Inside, they were escorted to the champion’s table - a table they’re sharing with Novak Djokovic, the Men’s Champion who just finished his match this afternoon. His fiancée, Jelena, introduces herself to Delphine while Cosima and Novak make small talk as the program starts. She tells her that she watches Totentanz and in return Delphine politely compliments her engagement ring, prompting Jelena to surprisingly share that they’re actually getting married in four days. Delphine was in the middle of saying her best wishes when Cosima stood up from the table.

“I’m going to the restroom,” she announces, giving her a suggestive look as the main courses were being set on the table.

“You know what, I’ll come with you,” Delphine says, the meaning behind the look not lost on her.

They arrive at an empty restroom and as soon as the door closes, Cosima surges forward for a hungry kiss. The fact that they are in public isn’t lost on Delphine and she pushes Cosima so they can get inside an empty stall.

“This feels like high school,” Cosima jokes before resuming their liplock, her tongue darting out to taste Delphine’s lips, “you’re so beautiful.”

“Is that what you said to your high school girlfriend?” Delphine teases as she slides her lips down Cosima’s creamy neck, tempted to leave marks there for all the world to see.

“No, I talked a lot more then. Now, ohh...” Cosima says as Delphine’s hand palms a bosom, “you make me speechless,” and Cosima arches to her touch.

They both continued to take advantage of the empty room, but the sounds of lips and tongue meeting were interrupted by the incessant dinging of Delphine’s phone.

“_YOU CAN SNOG ALL YOU WANT_ _LATER BUT COSIMA NEEDS TO BE ON STAGE NOW!?!!YOU 2 BETTER NOT MAKE ME GO THERE TO BANG ON THE LOO AND DRAG YOU BACK_”

The sound of their laughter over Sarah’s message bounces off the tiles. “Come on, chérie, you have a trophy to get,” and she removes the lipstick smudges off Cosima’s neck and face. As their eyes meet while heading back to the dinner party, Delphine can’t help but feel like she’s the one who’s coming out of London with the biggest win of her life. “Thank you for you,” Delphine whispers as she held Cosima's hand tighter, “I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is actually an unplanned bonus Wimbledon chapter and I hope you enjoy it. :) There are four chapters left in this story so I'm taking the opportunity to thank everybody for leaving comments, kudos, and just generally giving this story a chance. All of it keeps me going forward with this story (and hopefully with a few other story ideas I have in the pipeline).
> 
> Thank you to Corsan for the insights and for making time amidst everything that's happening. Hoping things are faring better on your end my friend.
> 
> Stay healthy, safe, and well, and see you in the next few chapters. :D


	25. WTA Finals 2014, Singapore

**October 15, 2014: Five days before the WTA Finals**

“First to three wins,” Cosima shouts from across the net towards an amused Sarah as Delphine and Felix watch from the players’ benches. “No-Ad,” and the dreadlocked American gives her slightly confused girlfriend a playful wink.

“No-Ad?” Delphine asks Felix who took out his phone to take a video of the unravelling friendly match.

“It means that if they get to 40-40, they play a deciding point. No advantage,” and Delphine nods.

“Wins what exactly?” Sarah answers as she bounces the ball before serving.

“Your call,” and Cosima fixes her glasses, opting to wear them instead of putting back her contacts after they finished today’s practice. “If I win, I get a day off tomorrow.” 

“Okay. If I win, we switch rooms!” And a devilish smirk sweeps Sarah’s face.

“That’s right! No sex before the tournament!” Felix says, making Delphine blush. The WTA Finals, dubbed as the unofficial fifth grand slam, is the last tournament of the season that pits 2014's eight winningest WTA players against each other. The prize money made Delphine dizzy when Felix told her about it. “It’s an all-expense paid vacation to exotic Singapore,” he said when he fetched her from Changi Airport yesterday. Team Niehaus has been in Singapore since the weekend. “We get participation fees for just showing up and playing. Even if you lose all your matches, you get a cool 120,000 dollars. If you win the entire thing, you stand to pocket two million.” 

“The suite is too big and the walls are thick,” Cosima retorts. “How would you know what we’re doing?” Singapore being the premier year-end tournament, the tour organizers spared no expense - billeting every WTA Final qualifier and their team in sprawling Marina Bay Sands suites that have spacious rooms, its own private gym, sauna, massage room, and jacuzzis. Even the toiletries are branded and expensive.

“We have eyes you know,” Felix ribs Delphine and Cosima.

“And brains,” Sarah mutters. “It wasn’t hard to figure out your activities when there’s a trail of clothes from the living room to your room.” They do have a point, Delphine thinks. She and Cosima may have been too enthusiastic about their reunion – they had the suite to themselves last night and they were already half naked when they reached their room.

“Are you filming all this?” Delphine incredulously gasps when she looks at Felix still holding his phone. 

“Okay, let’s make this more interesting,” Sarah proposes as she runs towards Delphine and Felix to grab two racquets from Cosima’s bag. “First to two games, but we play doubles,” and she hands them the racquets. “I pick Felix.” He stands up to walk to their side of the court, showing off by spinning the racquet in his palm.

“Oh! Big mistake, Manning...” And Cosima waves for Delphine to join her on court. “Never underestimate Delphine Cormier. You know, we did beat Martina Navratilova in doubles.”

“Beginner’s luck!” Felix replies while he and Sarah huddle to talk strategies.

“Show - don’t tell, Niehaus!” And Sarah makes her way back to the service court.

“What’s the plan?” Delphine nervously asks, only for Cosima to give her a kiss on her cheek to wash away the nerves.

“Like in Montreal,” and Cosima holds Delphine’s racquet while she ties her blonde locks. “Just get the ball across and I’ll produce the angles.” And with a high five and a chaste liplock, they take to their positions: Cosima on the baseline, Delphine on the forecourt.

It’s obvious to Delphine that Sarah, unlike Cosima, loves attacking the net. In the first point of the match, Sarah immediately serves and volleys in an effort to win the point. But Cosima is crafty enough to direct the shots to the back, taking advantage of the court that has opened up when Sarah moved forward to the net. Felix got to the ball but shanks the return. 0-15 for Team Cormier-Niehaus.

Sarah employs the same tactics in the next point, though in Delphine’s untrained eyes, her serve seems faster and more pointed. Cosima returns it with a looper and Felix hits the ball back. Delphine does as she’s told by returning the ball. It was a soft return though and was quickly punished by a running Sarah who hit a forehand winner. 15-all.

“Is that the best you’ve got?” Cosima taunts Sarah when she predicts that she’s going for a dropshot, banking on Delphine’s inability to bend and hit the ball cleanly. Cosima ran to the net to clear it and Sarah wasn’t quick enough to return the ball. 15-30. Sarah went on to double-fault her next serves, and with two game points, Cosima immediately joined Delphine near the net after receiving her coach’s serve to end the game with a smash. 1 game to 0 for Team Cormier-Niehaus.

“Amateurs,” and Cosima laughs as she prepares to serve. “It’s a good thing there’s no money involved in this bet.”

“Yeah, yeah,” and Sarah prepares to receive, “just serve the damn ball.”

“I might as well just ace everything to put you out of your misery,” and Delphine silently hopes that she does so she doesn’t have to do anything.

“OI! My sister does have a winning record against you,” Felix says, his competitive spirit clearly showing.

Much to Delphine’s delight, Cosima did make three straight aces, putting them ahead at 40-love. But on Cosima’s serve at match point, she showed some mercy, laughing as she dishes out a puffy serve. A smiling Sarah leisurely runs to the net to softly return the ball heading towards Delphine. Around this time in a rally, Cosima would have already run to her side to cover any passing ball. But this time, she hung out at the back, letting Delphine deal with it on her own. Delphine let’s the slow ball bounce once before returning it with a forceful one-handed backhand, and Sarah laughs as she turns around so the ball hits her behind and not her arms.

“Nice one-hander, blondie!” Sarah says with a smirk. “Care to teach your girlfriend that?” She adds, making sure that Cosima heard it.

“You won me a day off, babe!” Cosima says as she runs to Delphine, dreadlocks bouncing and her swoony smile on full display. She knew she was getting a hug but the sight of a happy Cosima made Delphine want more than just an embrace as she lifts her and kisses her.

“We’re right here,” Felix says as he walks to stash the racquet. Delphine laughed but refused to part with Cosima’s lips. “Fine, fine...just don’t leave a trail of clothes on court, yeah?” They only reluctantly let each other go when the next player showed up with her team for their practice.

\-----

Delphine was up early in the morning of Cosima’s rare mid-tournament day off. She couldn’t deny that she’s excited for what the day brings, and that’s probably what jolted her awake (along with the ill-advised espresso after dinner). But waking up next to Cosima - not just today but all the time - replaces her initial emotions with a calm sense of gratitude; gratitude to the universe and to the forces behind serendipitous encounters masquerading as mundane and fleeting - the very same kind of encounter that made it possible for their paths to meet.

She was overwhelmed by it at first, remembering the first time they went to bed angry after Cosima picked a fight during her pre-season training in Toronto last December.

_ “It’s not the nudity that bothers me...” Cosima said, palms rubbing her eyes in a futile effort to erase the scenes she saw in Delphine’s film. “But...His hands – they were all over you! Squeezing and touching your -” _

_ “It’s work!” Delphine reasoned, raising her voice to convince Cosima to see things from her perspective. “There’s nothing sexy or romantic about being naked and doing simulated sex scenes with an entire crew checking the lights, the sounds -” _

_ “Fuck! Don’t you think I know that?!? But when you said “love scene,” I didn’t expect it to be that long...and that graphic. To be that realistic.” _

_ “So you expect me to clear my roles with you scene by scene from now on? Is that what you want?” _

_ There were more hurtful, unreasonable words exchanged after, and the night predictably ended with Cosima angrily grabbing a pillow from the bed to sleep on the couch. Alone in the room, Delphine could only cry in rage as she wrote in her journal (which, at that time she only used to internalize roles) in between sticks of cigarettes – never mind if Cosima hated the smell that would linger after.  _

_ But then she woke up the next day, surprised that there’s a warm body beside her when she expected nothing but cold and empty smoke-stained sheets. Delphine had no idea when Cosima returned to the room, but she found herself thankful that she didn’t lock the door when she left for the couch. And just like that, the anger fluttered away bit by bit at the prospect of being able to hold Cosima tight; of curling dreadlocks around her fingers and playing pretend mustache with it; and of softly kissing her naked shoulder. _

_ It had never been like that with all the ones that came before. And it scared her – enough for her to put down the arm meant to pull the brunette in for an embrace. _

_ “I’m sorry,” she heard Cosima whisper before turning around to face her. “I overreacted.” And Cosima snuggled into Delphine, her forehead resting on her chest as if shameful for the things she said the night before. _

_ “I’m sorry too - for the things I said. But it all comes down to whether you trust me or not,” and Delphine placed a light kiss on the top of Cosima’s head. “To whether you can trust me to separate my work from the real thing...” _

Oddly enough, that same nasty fight produced her first anniversary gift to Cosima. It’s hard to buy something for someone who could buy all their material desires so Delphine decided to delve deep into the personal. She gets up from bed after giving Cosima a quick kiss to get the framed gift from her luggage, going to the bathroom to quietly remove its bubble wrapping. She set the gift – along with a short “ _ Joyeux anniversaire ma chérie _ ” scribbled on the hotel’s stationery - on Cosima’s bedside table beside her glasses, wanting nothing more for it to be the first thing that she sees when she wakes up.

Then quietly, she slips out of the room to make herself a cup of coffee – her teeth digging into her lower lip as she waits for the dark liquid to drip. The thing with personal gifts is the waves of embarrassment that comes with giving it. Maybe Cosima would find it corny, or worse, would find it inferior. After all, her writing and sketching skills are only passable at best.

But does it really matter? It’s the most personal gift she has ever given a lover, and as she lights a cigarette to calm her nerves, she convinces herself that there’s no taking it back. It’s out there for Cosima’s taking – along with her heart and her soul.

\-----

Cosima turns to nuzzle Delphine’s back, the appeal of waking to the sight of the constellation of beauty marks on the blonde’s back not lost on her even if she’s half-asleep. She pats the space once, twice, surprised that there’s no Delphine in the bed. For a sleepy minute, she thought she was still thousands of miles away from her: that she’s in Singapore and she’s still in Toronto tending to the Leekie mess alone, with Rachel as her only line of defense. 

Then she catches a whiff of the pillow, smelling mostly of Delphine’s shampoo: lavender with a hint of something citrusy. “She got here two days ago,” Cosima says in relief, “she’s probably outside, drinking coffee.” She sits up as she wipes the sleep out of her eyes before putting on her glasses. She was about to get up when she saw something odd on her bedside table – something that she’s sure was not there last night when they went to sleep.

“ _ Joyeux anniversaire ma chérie, _ ” the note tucked in the oak wood frame says, covering what the frame is actually housing. She could barely contain the smile mixing with tears as she uncovers what’s behind the note.

There is a drawing: a penciled sketch, mostly of lines depicting a woman who seems to be treading a slightly sloped tightrope with arms outstretched - not only in search for a semblance of balance but also with graceful glee. Beside it, a poem:

_ Tightrope _

_ A tightrope leading to the heavens, a steep climb to the sky _

_ Tethered on a stake atop a building, stories high _

_ On the ledge you stood and looked down at the fall _

_ You wonder why people attempt to do this at all _

_ It’s foolish, you know, you’ve done this before _

_ Set foot on the rope and set out to go _

_ A slip here and there, and a misstep in between _

_ And a fast downward tumble toward the street _

_ Lessons hard learned, you stayed far away. _

_ But here you are again, healed up but unsure _

_ Apprehensive, you touch the rope and the stake _

_ You stare up at the incline, and remembered quite late _

_ That you’re afraid of heights, and of the inevitable fall _

_ Then you look up to the place where the rope leads _

_ You take a deep breath and make the choice _

_ You take the first step and so it begins. _

The date under it,  _ 29 December 2013 _ , is something Cosima vividly remembers. It’s hard to forget that day - when she decided 15 minutes into watching Delphine’s then-new film to be an asshole to her. She clutches the gift, recognizing immediately how valuable it is to be receiving something Delphine holds so personal.

It’s still tightly pressed to her chest when she leaves the room, wanting nothing more but to meet the gift’s maker. She silently curses the size of the suite when she didn’t find Delphine immediately, but working on a hunch, she crosses the sprawling receiving room to go to the terrace.

The barely-up sun engulfs Delphine in a near-perfect glow that highlights her natural beauty. The way she looks more beautiful with no makeup on is one of the many things she loves about her. The sight reminds her of how lucky she is to see Delphine at her most real, barest light. A slight morning breeze tussles her curls, and Cosima watches as the blonde runs her fingers through her hair. To her surprise, Delphine had a slightly worried look framed in a tinge of a blush when she saw her standing by the sliding glass door.

_ You’re so cute _ , Cosima muses. “You really are something, Cormier,” she says instead as she sits behind her, enveloping Delphine’s waist between her legs for a cuddle from behind. “I love you so much,” and she kisses her shoulder. “Thank you for this.”

“You don’t think it’s shitty? Corny?” Delphine asks while she runs her hands on Cosima’s arms to tighten the embrace.

“Nobody has given me a gift so personal, so perfect,” and Cosima rests her chin on Delphine’s shoulder, nuzzling her neck and laying her lips on the creamy skin. “It’s actually the perfect jump-off point for my anniversary gift.”

\-----

“So,” Delphine hears Cosima say after she buys them ice cream wafer sandwiches (vanilla for her, chocolate for Cosima), “have you decided yet?” And she takes a healthy bite of the treat. 

The sweetness of the morning – of how much Cosima loved her gift and how Cosima’s “gift” took Delphine by surprise - set the tone for their Singapore day out. After spending precious, quiet moments on the terrace, they went for a quick breakfast at the hotel. With Sarah and Felix choosing to sleep in, they wordlessly left the room with nobody around to ask them where they’re headed.

It was an easygoing, no-plan walking date that started with a leisurely stroll around the Gardens by the Bay and the Cloud Forest – the place not yet teeming with other tourists since it’s barely noon. Enjoying each other's company as they looked at the various flowers and plants in the parks, they decided to forego having lunch at the hotel to walk about twenty minutes to a hawker centre. It was a bit hot but neither of them minded as the walk was filled with stories about the things that happened while they were away from each other.

“Rachel told me Leekie tried to play hardball,” Cosima said when Delphine began to touch on the subject.

“He did,” Delphine answered, filling in the specifics of the story she already told Cosima over Skype a week ago. “After delaying the Toronto meeting for weeks, he demanded we buy out my contract, and that we pay him additional compensation for his firing. The amount he asked for was insane. It was roughly about two years’ worth of commissions based on my current income - adjustable if I earn more in the future.” 

“The nerve of that old fucker,” Cosima sneered while wiping beads of sweat from her forehead. “Like he’s in a position to demand. So how did you finally get rid of him?”

“Rachel, for lack of a better word,” Delphine said, “got him by the balls. After we refused the buy-out terms, she threatened to elevate matters to a civil court. She then gave him a list – of agents who got fired by their clients after they set them up to meet the same powerful producer. It was an extensive list and because the agents did not sign NDAs about it, they have to answer why they got fired under oath. I have to admit, I was impressed. He became, euh, more reasonable after that.”

“But you still paid him, right?” Cosima asked when they reached their destination.

“Yes,” and Delphine led them to a stall specializing in chicken rice. “But it was a reasonable settlement, mostly back-commissions for the months of July to October. After we signed confidentiality agreements, he signed my release.” Cosima shrugged at that but she could tell that Leekie completely out of the picture brought her relief.  To Delphine, Cosima’s reaction about the Toronto meeting was quite reminiscent of the first time she complained about Leekie to her when they were in L.A. last off-season.

_ “He just likes to fucking insert himself in anything I do,” Delphine grumbled as she checked her email - an invitation to some gala she had attend with Leekie. _

_ “Yeah, he seems pretty hands on when it comes to you,” Cosima said, “I mean, I know it’s his job but some of the things he does, he can do it with a phone call - or have an assistant do it. Why don’t you just fire him then?” _

_ “I can’t,” Delphine said, “we have a contract.”  _

_ “I know this is personal,” Cosima said after digesting her latest Leekie rant, “but were you and him ever...” _

_ “Ever what?” _

_ “More than just agent and client?” _

_ Delphine should have been angry, or at least offended, by the question. But she’s entitled to the truth if she were to heavily invest in Cosima. _

_ “It’s worse, actually,” she said, drinking a glass of wine for liquid courage. “He created the impression that we're sleeping together even when we weren’t. Aren’t. And never will. It's worse because I allowed it to happen. ‘I know the truth so the rumors won’t bother me’ is what I told myself, but deep down, it’s...unsettling, revolting.” _

“The important thing is that he’s out for good,” and Cosima carries their tray of food to an empty table with Delphine holding on to their drinks. It was a hearty but inexpensive meal, made even more special by the fact that they can share it - with Delphine helping herself to Cosima’s chicken fried rice, while her girlfriend twirls a healthy portion of her Hokkien mee.

“How have you been, chérie, tennis-wise? And you have to be honest,” Delphine then asked when they walked back to the hotel to see the other sights near it. She knew that ever since winning Wimbledon, Cosima had been disappointed with her tournament results – a couple of quarterfinals in pre-U.S. Open warm-ups (in Montreal and Cincinnati); a fourth round exit in the U.S. Open; withdrawing from Tokyo and Wuhan with an ankle injury; and another quarterfinal showing at the China Open in Beijing. It was a touchy subject but she wanted to know. And maybe then she could help, even if Sarah had repeatedly told her that a plateau like that is normal after accomplishing something big.

“The truth?” Cosima started with a nervous caress of her chunky beaded bracelet, “I feel like a fraud for being in Singapore,” she said, taking a swig of her bottled water. “Eight best women’s tennis players in the world and here I am - I can’t even string more than three wins together after Wimbledon...”

“But isn’t that a good thing?” Delphine asked, earning a confused look from the American.

“Me not winning tournaments is a good thing?” And Delphine was surprised because Cosima wasn’t angry when she said it.

“Yes,” Delphine asserted, “to take the pressure off. To reset...Weren’t you the girl who uses doubts to keep herself sharp? To the point that you literally shoved your Wimbledon trophy to your dad so he can put it as far away from you as possible?” She knew she struck a chord when Cosima smirked. “So you’re losing and I’m sure you have many doubts. That’s good right?” Cosima merely nodded but gave her a smile and a kiss, and if her words helped even just a little in uplifting Cosima’s mood about tennis, then that’s good enough for her for now.

They reached the Helix Bridge that Cosima geeked out about last night (“ _ look at the nucleotide pairs lighting up – CG, AT,”  _ Delphine remembered with a smile) and saw an ice cream cart at the other end. “Come,” Delphine said, grabbing Cosima’s hand as they ran to it, knowing that a sweet cold treat would instantly brighten her girlfriend’s overall mood.

“There are a lot of things to consider,” Delphine says now as she runs her thumb on the side of Cosima’s lip that’s coated with ice cream. “We’re barely in one city long enough to actually live there together.” Cosima’s “gift” came in the form of a simple question:  _ “Where do we hang this?” _ She didn’t get it at first - even absently saying that she can put it in her San Francisco apartment or send it to Berkeley to her parents' cottage. Cosima held on to her tighter until her brain finally processed that her question used the pronoun  _ We _ \- not  _ I. _

“I know,” Cosima says before taking another bite of her ice cream sandwich, “and I’m the one who travels more so you tell me where we hang our hats and that would be that. Unless...”

Delphine had to stop her right there with a chaste kiss on the cheek. Doubts in a tennis court may be good for Cosima, but she didn’t want her to have any doubts about their future and what she feels about moving in together. “I would love nothing more but to go home to you - to a house that we both live in,” she says, her ice cream melting as she speaks. “I just need to figure out the best place for us to do that.” And Cosima nods and gives her a beaming smile. “Can you give me until the end of your tournament to make a choice?”

“Okay,” and this time it was Cosima wiping ice cream from her lips with her fingers. “Surprise me in a week, Cormier,” she proposes with a wink.

There might have been kinks in their day out together, but as she held onto Cosima’s hand while crossing her girlfriend’s second favorite bridge, Delphine knew she wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but here - beside the woman she loves.

\-----

**October 22, 2014: Day 3 of the WTA Singles’ Finals**

“0-4,” is the prominent statistic that commentators threw around in the prelude to the second round robin match for the Red Group between Cosima and Serena Williams – the number 1 player in the world. Everybody is expecting the head-to-head to tick 0-5 once the match is done and dusted. After all, Cosima has not won a match and has only gotten a measly set from arguably the best women’s player of all time since she debuted on the WTA tour. 

In the first day of singles play, they both managed to dispatch their first round robin opponents in straight sets: Eugenie Bouchard for Cosima (easily winning the match at 6-2, 6-3), and Ana Ivanović for Serena (6-4, 6-4). Emerging as Day 1 winners set up a mouth-watering Singapore match between the highest-ranked American women’s tennis players in the world.

“If there’s a coach who knows first-hand how to beat Serena, that would be Sarah Manning,” Tracy - the expert commentator, says in their booth from up above the court. “She has an even 1-1 win-loss record against her, with her sole win coming from Wimbledon almost 10 years ago.”

“But she has been Cosima Niehaus’ coach since she joined the tour, and Cosima still hasn’t won against Serena,” Kevin - the presenter, adds to play devil’s advocate.

“True, but this is a different Cosima Niehaus now,” Tracy retorts. “She’s more focused, more disciplined, perhaps even more inspired. And after winning Wimbledon – her least favorite surface, she now has the belief that she can go toe-to-toe against the very best. I think we’re in for a treat tonight – a showcase of Serena’s power and Cosima’s impeccable defense.”

Sarah’s reminders are tumbling around Cosima’s mind minutes before the match. “We have two things working in our favor,” Sarah said the night before, “one, she hasn’t played you since you broke through. The Cosima she beat in Montreal is different from the Cosima now.”

Serena was already entering the court when she remembered the other thing that Sarah said. “And because of that, she is going to underestimate the shit out of you. You gotta make her pay for taking you lightly. Keep the serve percentage up, hit our targets, make her move, and run to every ball. Do that and she wouldn’t know what hit her.”

“So much for the power of Serena Williams, because Cosima has stepped up mightily,” Kevin comments when Cosima earns herself a break point in the first game of the match after reading Serena’s serve and hitting the ball to the open court when Serena’s return was slowed down by a net touch.

From the player’s box, Sarah can tell that even this early in the match, Cosima’s deep returns are already bothering Serena enough for her to change service patterns. She wasn’t surprised when she double faults at 30-40. “Not the start that Serena wanted,” Tracy says, “and a perfect execution in putting some pressure on Serena’s serve by Cosima Niehaus. And she strolls confidently to her chair with a 1-love lead.”

With Cosima easily consolidating the break to be up 2-0, everybody watching – be they tennis experts or fans – can tell that Serena is already trying to serve her way out of trouble. Her serves in the third game are sharper, faster, more forceful. Normally this would be enough to turn the tides in her favor, but Cosima’s return game has been forged in the fires of her bitter losses. And as she returns a 126 mile- per-hour serve down the T with outstretched arms, Cosima notices that instead of opting to go nearer to the net for a smash, Serena hesitated and stopped just outside the service box, intending to serve and volley her way to leveling the score currently at 15-30.

“She’s getting indecisive,” Sarah whispers to Delphine, “she didn’t expect that serve to come back.” And just as she predicted, Serena tried to win the next point by attacking, but her last lob didn’t even clear the net. “Serena did not move her feet on that first ball,” Tracy observes, “and Cosima made her pay for it.” It took less than a minute for Cosima to get a double break advantage at 3-0. Four minutes later, she’s up 4-0.

“Ay ay ay, AYYYY!” Serena groans from across the net in the fifth game when she double faults again at deuce. And gaining the advantage, Cosima makes sure that her next return is short to mix things up and confuse her opponent some more. The switch did the trick as Serena - who planted herself on the baseline expecting a deep return - made a shot that met the mid-part of the net. “Some colorful descriptions for Serena, but no matter how you try to shade it, it’s all Cosima Niehaus in the first set. 5 games played, 5 games won by the world number 3,” Kevin says, “5-love start. Niehaus fans - sit up and take notice!”

“The first thing that deserts her is her footwork…Expect her to come to the net more to gain the upper hand,” Sarah says to Delphine who’s still awe-struck at Cosima’s dominant game tonight. Come to the net is just what she did to try to save one of Cosima’s two set points, but she didn’t notice that by doing that, she opened the ad court - giving Cosima a clear path to a sharp return winner. ”Seven times in her career has Serena Williams been shut out in a set,” Tracy says, “make this the eight. 6-0 in 20 minutes, and Cosima Niehaus hands Serena her first bagel set since her sister Venus shut her out in the first set some six years ago.”

“She’ll keep coming at you to get her confidence back,” Sarah says in the early minutes of the second set when Cosima called her for a coaching timeout before trying to consolidate an early break. “All it takes is one tired mistake from you and one mighty winner from her for us to be here awhile. Stay confident, but don’t get too cocky.”

Cosima took her coach’s words to heart. In the second game where she can feel in every exchange the pressure Serena is putting on her to break back, she had no choice but to run from side to side to return her shots. One particular shot put her out of position and all she could do is hit a high looper, leaving her at the mercy of Serena’s groundstrokes. But like in the first set, Serena hesitated, which gave Cosima enough time to run to the other side of the court. In the corner of her eye, she sees Serena approaching the net, so at the last minute, she decided to hit an angled on-the-run return that swooshed past Serena. “Applause from Williams, who recognizes that Niehaus is on her game, denying Serena access to the scoreboard… 2-0, Niehaus...”

In the 37 th minute, Serena finally wins her first game of the match. But that was merely delaying the inevitable as Cosima got back to work in her service game to keep the lead at 3-1. She breaks Serena for the fifth time, making the score 4-1.

“Remarkable way to save break point for Cosima yet again,” Kevin says when Cosima orchestrated a rally to get herself out of trouble. “Her backhand crosscourt is just money. It’s got a little extra power, a nice angle, and sets up the forehand winner nicely,” Tracy chimes in when Cosima manages to wiggle out of trouble in that game for a commanding 5-1 lead. One game away from losing, Serena tries to pump herself up by holding in her next service game – hoping that the Cosima of old will present itself come winning time.

For a few minutes while serving for the match, Cosima doubted if she could even close it out – and it showed as she went down two break points. “But doubts keep you sharp,” she thinks, remembering Delphine’s words. It was enough to get her head back at the task at hand as she stepped up to the service line.

“My, Cosima…What a shellacking!” Tracy says, her commentary getting drowned by the applause of an appreciative crowd who knew they were treated to a Cosima Niehaus masterclass. “She has finally conquered the best player in the world. Serena Williams’ 16-match win streak ends at the hands of her fellow American after a 6-0, 6-2 loss, and she shined bright tonight.”

“I bet she’ll never forget Cosima’s name now,” Felix says, earning a cheeky grin from Sarah and an amused but confused look from Delphine.

\-----

**October 24, 2014: Day 5 of the WTA Singles’ Finals**

“I hate math,” Sarah says again in the player’s box after repeatedly saying the same sentiment last night while watching the Williams-Bouchard match at their suite. Serena won that match in straight sets, which made the computation easier. “It’s a round robin format,” she heard Cosima explain to Delphine as they watched. “The two players with the best win-loss record from the groups advance to the semifinals. From there, it’s a group’s number 1 versus the other group’s number 2. Whoever wins meets in the finals.”

Looking at the interaction, Sarah was surprised not only at how Delphine instantly understood the tournament mechanics but also at figuring out the hard choice they had to make. “So your match tomorrow could determine if Serena gets to the semis?” She asked Cosima who nodded with an uneasy shrug.

“Serena won in straight sets,” Felix said. “If Cosima loses in straight sets to Ivanović tomorrow, Serena’s eliminated and Ivanović would be the number 2 player. She’ll have the better set win-loss ratio.”

“And if she wins?” Delphine asked.

“Serena’s in. And if my math is right,” Sarah said, gripping her pencil, “even if Cosima wins just one set tomorrow, Serena would be the number 2 player from the group.”  _ So she has to really lose to have a better shot at winning the title, _ Sarah thought but didn’t say, surprised that she’s even entertaining the option.

“Guys,” Cosima said to Felix and Delphine while rubbing her forehead, “could you leave us for a bit?” And Sarah swiftly turned her head to face Cosima, fully aware that she’s having the same internal debate.

“Let’s get a massage, blondie,” Felix said to Delphine who nodded as they went to the suite’s private massage room.

Ordinarily, losing to Ana Ivanović – the 2008 French Open champion whose re-surging this year, will not come as a shock. She’s the number 5 player in the world and has the better winning record against Cosima (three wins in four matches). She also possesses a game that is hard for the American to decipher. “Her serve toss is so out of whack,” Cosima told Sarah during a coaching timeout in the Madrid semifinal just before this year’s French Open. “If it’s out, no problem...But when it’s in, I can’t tell where it’s going.” Still, she registered her lone win against the number 1 Serbian that day in the courts of Caja Mágica.

But there’s nothing ordinary about the WTA Finals, especially when a questionable strategy can pay dividends as well as criticisms for Cosima. There is a combined sense of jubilation and concern as Cosima ekes out a 4-1 lead over the Serbian in the first set. And as Sarah tries to get comfortable in her seat, she’s just thankful that Felix and Delphine didn’t ask her what’s the gameplan for today.

“Ajde!” Ivanović shouts when she overcomes the deficit. A more emotive ajde punctuated by a fist pump soon followed when Ana breaks Cosima when she served for the set. Sarah can feel two sets of questioning eyes looking at her as the first set goes to a tiebreak. “What the bloody hell is happening, Sar?” Felix says, breaking the tense silence.

_ “Run our scenarios again,” Cosima said last night once they were alone. _

_ “You lose in straights, Serena’s out,” Sarah began. “You lose in three, Serena’s in. If you win, it’s you and Ivanović in the semis.” _

_ “I know that,” Cosima replied, the unease at the unpleasant implication looming between them. “But I need you to give it to me straight.” _

_ “Serena is going to cream us the next time we meet,” Sarah’s words were coated with a tinge of inevitability. “It doesn’t matter if it’s here or elsewhere. Count on her to work day and night to return the favor.” _

_ “I thought so,” Cosima said. “God, I can’t believe we’re having this conversation...And we’re actually considering it.” _

Sarah looks at Felix to set the record straight. “What’s happening is tennis,” she says. “What’s happening is Cosima can’t read her opponent’s serve. What’s happening is Cosima is becoming indecisive.”

“Indecisive about what?” Delphine chimes in when Cosima loses the tiebreak at 7-9, giving Ivanovic the first set.

_ “So what do you want to do?” Sarah asked Cosima after opening the door to let in the masseuses for Felix and Delphine in. _

_ “What would Sarah Manning do?” Cosima returned the question. _

_ Sarah leaned back on the couch, wishing she had a better moral compass to tell Cosima what she wanted to hear. “Serena out of the picture is a tempting proposition...” She told Cosima, “So if you decide to tank the match, I would understand. But...” _

Sarah’s unable to answer Delphine’s question because Cosima called her for a coaching timeout after losing the first set. “You gotta tell me what I did wrong there,” Cosima pleads as Sarah takes a knee before her. “My mind is all over the place...”

“You let her crawl back with your gimpy serve is what,” Sarah says without mincing her words. “You had it and you relaxed, so she took advantage. You gotta remember what we talked about last night. Stick to it and we’ll be fine – no matter the result.”

_ “You won’t be able to look at yourself in the mirror?” Cosima tried to finish Sarah’s thought. _

_ “It’s not the mirror I can’t face,” Sarah said, letting out a breath. “It’s Kira. S. Fee, and whoever is my opponent. So can you face Delphine, your parents, Fee, and Ivanović if you take a dive tomorrow?” _

_ “No, I’m afraid I can’t,” Cosima replied. “But what I’m not afraid of is facing Serena. So let the chips fall where they may. We’re going to fight.” _

Come the second set, Cosima seems to be making up for the lost opportunities in the first set. And whatever doubts and concerns Felix and Delphine had at the start of the match were gone as they watched Cosima working to not let Ivanović catch up with her. She smashes an easy ball on her way to a 5-2 lead and after Ivanović held to make the score 5-3, Cosima worked hard to dish out a love game to seal the second set at 6-3.

By the third set, Ivanović regains her composure and races to a 3-love lead. Cosima’s first set problems rears its ugly head in her serves, but her opponent is also not letting up on her returns – matching every groundstroke with one of her own.

“I smell a grudge match,” Felix says not with a sense of dread or doubt about his team’s intentions, but with a toothy smile.

“Bring it,” Sarah says with a defiant smile as Cosima goes down against Ana Ivanović at 6-7, 6-3, 3-6. “We’re not afraid,” and perhaps this is the first time that Sarah is happy about a loss. 

\----

**October 26, 2014: Last Day of the WTA Finals**

“I’d rather get a clean second place finish than a tainted win,” Cosima said in her press conference when a local reporter asked if she regretted pulling Serena in to the semifinals after losing in three sets to Ana Ivanović. Just an hour before the presser, Serena Williams was crowned the WTA Finals 2014 Champion in a championship match where she blasted Cosima as expected, 6-3, 6-0.

“Damn right!” Sarah hoots as they watch before taking a swig of champagne.

“You called it,” Cosima says from the other end of the cozy L-shaped leather couch while hugging Delphine from behind. “She handed my ass to me,” and she drinks from her own champagne bottle. 

“But you scared her,” Felix adds, “enough for her to change her return patterns.”

“We’re going to work on how to deal with that in the off-season,” Sarah retorts, holding her bottle to clink it with Cosima’s. “Tonight, we drink!”

“Can I steal you for a minute?” Delphine, whose leaning on Cosima’s front whispers reverently.

“Yeah, of course,” and Cosima gets up to follow Delphine to their room, “but first,” and Cosima reaches into her tennis bag to hand Felix and Sarah envelopes.

“What is this?” Sarah says as she opens one of her two envelopes, “oh holy fuck!” Across her, Felix has gone slack-jawed. 

“Year-end bonuses,” and Cosima wipes her glasses with her shirt. “Consider it punitive damages for all the crap I put you through all these years.”

“Is that why I get two?” Sarah kids, opening the other envelope and putting a palm over her mouth in shock at the amount. “Cos, this is too much...I can’t take it.”

“It’s not for you, it’s for Kira,” Cosima says before taking Delphine’s hand to head to their room. “College is expensive.” 

Cosima smiles as she watches her coach and her physio smile and look at each other and at their checks. Sarah gives her a surprised but happy look, a face she hasn’t seen from her since they were in juniors and the only thing they cared about is how to sneak in cheap vodka in their rooms. It’s worth more than a hundred thank yous. 

“Hey, hey,” Felix says as she and Delphine leave, “this doesn’t change anything. Still no shagging until we open the Altoid.” 

“No promises, dude,” Cosima replies with a wink. Delphine can only blush and nod.

When they reach their room, Delphine quickly moves to the small study to hand Cosima her laptop. “Open it.” And as Cosima woke the laptop from its sleep, Delphine began to explain why she needed a minute to be alone with her. 

“This morning I made a decision about...” and Delphine stammers, getting distracted by her girlfriend’s smile and eyes, “well, you know. I booked our flights home.”

Cosima zooms in on the electronic ticket, and as the itinerary becomes clearer, her smile gets replaced with an excited grin. “Montreal,” she says, “we’re going to live together in Montreal?!?” And she looks up at Delphine for confirmation.

“Oui,” and Delphine takes the laptop and sets it aside to hold Cosima’s hands. “I figured we can live in my house in the meantime. Then maybe we can buy something together? Or if you don’t want that, we can -”

She gets shushed with an enthusiastic kiss that she instantly returns and melts into. “I’d love to U-Haul with you to Montreal. And all the other stuff - we can work it out,” Cosima answers as she pushes Delphine to lie on the bed. “We have all kinds of time,” she adds as she repositions to be on top so she can run her lips from the blonde’s mouth to her neck. “God, I love you so much.”

“I love you so much too,” Delphine says, quickly losing herself in the brunette’s ministrations as she feels a palm coasting on her breast.

“OI!!! YOU TWO!!! YOUR MINUTE’S UP!” Felix’s hollers from the other side of the door, accompanying his loud and obnoxious knocking, “it’s time -”

“10 minutes, Fee,” Cosima pleads as she gets ready to take off her shirt while she straddles a giggling Delphine. “10 minutes...”

“Look, the sooner we get this ranking game over and done with, the sooner you can get back to your regularly scheduled nightly activities,” Felix reasons. “Don’t make me go in there!” He adds for good measure.

“He has a point,” Delphine says, getting up to tug away Cosima’s hands from the hem of her shirt before giving her one more kiss before leaving the room.

“Nice of you to rejoin us,” Sarah says with a smirk as she opens the Altoid case. “I promise this’ll be quick – especially since we already know who’s winning again this year,” she adds - her tone and mood cocky.

“Nah, I think I guessed well this year,” and Felix looks for his entry in the can, “see, I wrote 5.”

“I picked 11,” Cosima says, not even bothering to pick her rolled-up paper, and the room collectively groans.

“I don’t know what it is,” Sarah says, “are you being over-modest? Self-conscious? You always guess too low.”

“Hey, it’s my entry,” and Cosima checks her parents’ entry – a collective pick that Cosima will emerge as the number 1 player in the world after this season which made her blush. “And the parental units still guess too high.”

“They’re just very proud of you, mon amour,” Delphine says, enveloping Cosima around her arms as they watch all entries being unfolded. “Rachel picked 7 by the way,” she adds, taking a piece of paper from her pocket. “I told her about this and she slipped the paper in my hand before she left for L.A.”

“Fine,” Sarah says, “I guess she can join.”

“S picked 6,” Felix informs them, “a solid, old-school choice as always, Mum,” he adds. “So, mighty champion of this game, what’s your number?” He asks Sarah.

“Oh don’t ask her that,” Cosima says with a laugh, “we’ll be here all night. There’s Cal, and this guy Paul, and this girl you fooled around with back in juniors -” and Cosima shuts up when Sarah throws a shoe at her, hitting her on the shin.

“I picked number 2, you git,” and she walks to pick up her shoe. “So Cos, I think I’d buy a nice, expensive bourbon and a bottle of Dom in the airport,” she boasts.

“Hold that,” and Cosima unfolds Delphine’s entry, “sorry, I think we have a new champion.” Sarah goes to them again to see Delphine’s pick.

“Lucky number 3,” the blonde says with a shy smile – an exact guess of Cosima’s year-end ranking of world number 3.

“What? How?” Sarah asks, inspecting the parchment and still refusing to believe that the newest member of Team Niehaus out-guessed her.

“I just took your advice,” Delphine says, rubbing in her victory to Sarah, “I aimed high and took it down a notch. I wanted to pick number 1 so I went two places down and wrote down three.”

“So when do you want to cash in your winnings?” Cosima says, turning around to face Delphine.

“How about right now?” And Delphine waves goodbye to Sarah and Felix as she takes Cosima by the hand to finish what they started in their bedroom.

“Aren’t you glad that wasn’t in the payout option when you were winning?” Felix says and Sarah just shakes her head with a grin.

“Beginner’s luck,” and they toast to the 2014 season while opening another bottle of champagne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How is everybody doing? I hope you're all keeping safe and staying well :). Thank you so much for giving this story a chance, for the comments, questions, and everything else in between. And to ooopartizane, I hope you particularly like the Ana Ivanović reference in this chapter :), even if it took me 24 chapters before I wrote about her.
> 
> A special thanks to Corsan, my friend, who amidst all the things she has to take care of still took the time to comment and read through the chapter. Some stuff in this chapter stemmed from our earlier conversations, and I think they fit. Thank you again!
> 
> See you in the next chapter!


	26. The Unexpected Missing Piece, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mondax is stuck in a parallel universe where the 2020 French Open pushes through this Sunday because there are no threats of a virus. :)

**May 22, 2020 - French Open, Media Day**

“I have to say, Cosima,” Courtney says, “that I was expecting you to talk about the grand slam wins when I asked you about career highlights. Of course, you talked about Wimbledon...”

“Yeah,” Cosima interrupts, smiling at the memory of the victory that she still replays in her mind every once in a while. “You never forget your first - especially if it’s so unexpected.”

“But a chunk of our sit-down covered the early years: the struggles, 2013 and the six titles, the trials and successes of 2014,” Courtney – now a senior writer for the WTA, replies after a quick peek at her interview notes. “Hearing you recount these tournaments made me wonder if you can pinpoint a particular event during this time that, looking back now, you could consider as that singular moment of breakthrough for you.”

Cosima bows her head, hiding a shy smile. It isn’t hard for her to figure out where and why the breakthrough happened. And while normally, she refrains from specifically answering this question, she’s feeling pretty generous and open now. Besides, this is Courtney and she still owes her for the paparazzi fiasco years ago.

“That singular moment would have to be Montreal 2013,” she confides – the shy smile replaced by a knowing grin. “That’s where it all came together for me, where everything unexpectedly snapped into place. If I can go back in time knowing what I know now, having lived the life that I’ve lived in the past seven years, I would tell 25-year-old me to not panic, to not overthink because her life is going to change in more ways than one and she wouldn’t want to live it any other way. ”

“And your life did change in more ways than one since then,” and Courtney, eagle-eyed as always, points to Cosima’s left hand.

\-----

**February 5, 2020**

A Bush was still president the last time every room at the Niehaus’ Berkeley home was occupied. In the past few days, Gene and Sally were busy getting the place ready while they kept an eye on the TV to watch Cosima in the Australian Open.

“It’s a good thing she already won this tournament two years ago,” Sally said to Gene while carefully taking out the good china from the kitchen cabinet as she took furtive looks at her daughter’s nail-biting semifinal against Garbiñe Muguruza. “Oh, who am I kidding?!?” And she hurriedly left the fancy plates on the dining table to sit down in front of the TV and watch as Cosima subtly massaged her back while trying to prolong the match. “My heart always stops every time Cos steps on court.”

“She’ll be fine,” Gene added as he walked to the living room with a plate and a dish towel as Cosima lost the semis at 7-6, 7-5. “Just remember, win or lose, we have bigger things to celebrate. Your daughter is coming in a few days.”

Their first guests arrived two days later. While the Niehauses have known Siobhan Sadler since their kids were in juniors, this was the first time that she stepped foot in their home. “Finally!” Siobhan exclaimed as she hugged Sally and shook Gene’s hand, alluding to the Thanksgivings and Christmas dinners they planned to celebrate here but didn’t.

“It’s the least we can do,” Sally said, “you’ve generously hosted your fair share of get-togethers – it’s our turn now.” Over the years, Sally didn’t mind flying to Canada to spend the holidays with her daughter. More than the trophies, all she and Gene really wanted for their only child is for her to have a meaningful, well-rounded life – tennis or no tennis. And the yearly trips to Toronto or Montreal not only allowed them to take in new sights but to also see glimpses of how far Cosima has gone in forging her own path. To say that every visit made them feel proud of their daughter was an understatement.

Behind Siobhan, a teenage girl gave them polite smiles. “I can’t believe how grown-up you are, Kira,” Gene said, recounting the first time they saw her when she was just a toddler. “I hope you wouldn’t mind spending a few days with us old folks,” he added and Kira gave him a shy smirk that is pure Sarah.

“We have someone else with us,” Siobhan said, stepping out of the picture to reveal another woman almost as tall as her but with medium blonde hair.

“Oh, Suzanne!” Sally exclaimed, enveloping the other woman in a hug. “What a lovely surprise! We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow.”

“I talked with Siobhan about flying here together so I switched my flight out of Montreal,” Suzanne explained as Gene gave her a polite kiss on the cheek. “So why are we all here again?” She asked quizzically, but Sally could see from the hint of a pregnant smile that Suzanne already had an idea why Cosima and Delphine wanted them to spend a weekend as one family as soon as they got back from Australia.

“Maybe they’ve finally picked a date?” Sally guessed with a giggle, and the enthusiastic nod that Suzanne gave her told her that the excitement went both ways.

“Well, they’ve been engaged for more than a year,” Suzanne replied, “setting a date now seems about right.”

They only had to wait a day to get a definitive answer when Cosima, Delphine, Sarah, and Felix arrived at the house. And even if their daughters played coy, refusing to tell the reason behind the get-together while they helped with dinner preparations, it didn’t stop Suzanne and Sally from making suggestions.

“You can do it here if you want to keep things low-key,” Sally says as they set up the dinner table. “We can fix up the backyard and have the ceremony there.”

“Or we can all go to Whistler,” Suzanne suggests as she brings in the salad and freshly-baked bread to the table, “a colleague has cabins we could rent. It’s lovely this time of the year!”

“Oh that’s a wonderful idea! I haven’t skied for the longest time!” Sally excitedly chimes in as she brings in the hot-from-the-grill steaks.

“So do you want to tell them or should I?” Cosima asks as Delphine wipes away a dollop of salad dressing in the corner of the brunette’s lips with her thumb.

“You should make the big announcement,” Delphine answers, running the pad of her thumb on Cosima’s lips. “And I will make sensible explanations.”

“Okay,” and Cosima looks around the table to the expectant faces of her parents, Suzanne, and Siobhan while Sarah talks to Kira and Felix swirls his wine. “Mom, Dad, Suzanne, we’ve set a date.”

“I knew it!” Sally melodiously says, clutching on to Suzanne who has one of her hands on her mouth to cover an overjoyed squeal.

“That’s excellent,” Gene says from his seat at the head of the table, “so when is the big date?” And as soon as those words escaped his mouth, Felix snickers but everybody (except Sarah) is too focused on Cosima’s words to notice.

“Ahh,” Cosima says, biting her bottom lip – a by-product of living with Delphine and unconsciously taking on her mannerisms, “January 31,” she continues.

“One year gives you ample time to get things in order,” Suzanne says, finally able to squeeze out a word after reeling in her excitement. And to that, Sarah laughs, raising both her hands in apology for her inappropriate reaction.

“Mum, why are you laughing?” Kira asks, only to be lovingly shushed by Sarah.

“I think it’s best if we let Auntie Cosima and Aunt Delphine do the talking, monkey,” she says.

“Non, Maman,” Delphine explains, “euh…We only had less than two months to prepare actually,” and she looks at Cosima. “It  _ was _ January 31 – last January 31,” and the only sound in the room when Delphine said it were the muffled sounds of Sarah and Felix’s laughter.

“Yeah, um,” and Cosima stands up to take something in her pocket – a simple wedding band, which she proceeds to wear on her left ring finger. “We got married in New Zealand. Sarah and Fee were our witnesses...”

“Oi! This was your idea! You roped us into your surprise destination wedding,” Felix says, earning him a playful smack in the head from Siobhan.

“We couldn’t settle on a date given our schedules and commitments,” Delphine continues as she mirrors what Cosima did to show off her wedding band. “So before we left Montreal, we decided to do it after the Australian Open.”

“We just wanted to be married. And I’ve always wanted to visit The Shire,” Cosima meekly adds before seeing tears falling from her mom’s eyes. “Please say you’re okay with this, you guys,” she pleads.

“Well,” Suzanne says as she gets up from her seat to walk towards the newlyweds, “I may not be able to help plan a wedding, but I’m so happy for your marriage,” and she proceeds to give her daughter kisses. “Cosima, ma fille,” she says as she hugs her daughter’s wife, “I can’t thank you enough for making my Delphy so happy.”

“Congratulations,” Gene says, following suit and wrapping Cosima and Delphine in his arms. “You kids almost gave me a heart attack,” he adds as Sally gives them both kisses amidst wet, teary eyes.

With the cat out of the bag, Sarah and Felix began to talk about their trip to New Zealand. “We thought we were going there to indulge this geek’s Lord of the Rings fascination after losing to Muguruza,” Sarah scoffs. “So we went. Before we knew it, we were heading to a courthouse and witnessing wedding vows and rings being exchanged.”

“And then they hightailed to Hobbiton and left us in Auckland,” Felix says, “they came back three days later, looking all kinds of flushed and satisfied,” he insinuates with a wink. Looking across the table as Cosima talks about their short honeymoon, Delphine can tell that while her Maman and Gene are happily taking in the story, Sally could only manage to give quiet nods every once in a while. The thrifty smiles she makes when Cosima shows pictures of them in the courthouse after the short ceremony and in Hobbiton didn’t hide her frown. Maybe they shouldn’t have been too impulsive about the wedding, Delphine thinks, seeing how Sally is taking it.

Later that evening when the house had gone from boisterous to quiet, Delphine got up from the bed in Cosima’s cottage to get a glass of water. From the window near the fridge, she sees someone in the front yard. Quietly, she slips out of the cottage after putting on a robe and giving Cosima a kiss on her cheek. The crunch of the gravel walkway against her slippers alerted the other person to her presence. 

“That bad, huh?” Delphine says, pointing to the cigarette between Sally’s fingers. 

She nonchalantly blows out a puff of smoke before giving Delphine a small wave and a tentative smile. “I’d offer you one but you quit a few years ago,” she says, only for Delphine to ask for the pack when she got closer.

“One stick for old time’s sake won’t hurt,” Delphine muses as she gets a cigarette while Sally hands in her lighter. She coughs at first puff and needed a few short drags to get reacquainted with the long-lost habit. “I’m sorry,” she adds when she got used to the taste and the sensation, “looking back now, what we did was selfish, inconsiderate, and -”

Sally interrupts Delphine, facing her as she begins talking. “No, it’s not that,” she says, “I’m very happy for you two. And the wedding sounds great. You two got what you always wanted – a quiet, no fuss ceremony. No meddling mothers picking out venues or centerpieces...” And sensing Sally’s tone, Delphine immediately feels guilty for shutting their parents out. “What matters is you two are at your happiest...It’s just that...Oh my, I didn’t expect this...”

Confused, Delphine clutches on to Sally’s hand, begging her to tell her what’s on her mind. “Gene and I adore you. We love you not only because Cosima loves you but also because you’re a wonderful person. But when I saw your rings and the photos, it made me a bit sad,” Sally says, “knowing that officially, I’m not the only woman in Cos’ life,” but as soon as Sally said that, a genuine smile emerges, showing the older woman’s laugh lines amidst tears rolling down her cheeks. “But talking to you now, I realize that while that is the case, I’m very happy that I gained another daughter. And my happiness about you cancels out everything else.”

Unable to stop her own tears from falling, Delphine hugs Sally. “Thank you,” she says, wiping her eyes and giving her mother-in-law a kiss on her cheek.

“Take care of our girl,” and Delphine nods at Sally’s words, “and please don’t pull this stunt when it’s time for grandkids. I don’t think my heart can take it.”

\-----

“Yeah,” and Cosima raises her hand to give Courtney a short glimpse of her finger and the platinum ring around it. “We got married after the Australian Open. It was a very private affair,” and Cosima smiles, remembering the mix of nerves and excitement when she and Delphine hopped on that plane to Auckland as each other’s fiancée for the last time.

“I didn’t even know you were engaged,” Courtney muses. “Of course, everybody knows it’s a serious relationship, but you’ve been adamant about keeping your private life private.”

“It’s not always easy,” Cosima answers, “given the nature of our work. But it’s something that we silently agreed on early on.”

“Is that why you decided to be based in Montreal?” Courtney insinuates, “You know, instead of more convenient locations for her like L.A. or a more familiar neighborhood to you like San Francisco? You must miss it. I know I do,” she muses being from San Fran herself.

Cosima processes the question, thinking of a way to answer it without revealing too much about the inner workings of her and Delphine’s relationship, even if she has always gotten the go-ahead to talk about it.

“You can say that,” she chooses to say, “but to me, living in Montreal is an unexpected blessing. I don’t really need much during off days– just give me a cozy couch to chill in and a tennis court to practice in and I’m a happy camper. But I know how much my wife values her connection to her roots – not losing sight of who she is outside the bright lights is important for her creativity, for her humanity. The need to know and the need to be who you are outside what you do is something I can relate to and seeing that in her every time we make breakfast or just hang out at home is a gift that keeps on giving. And it’s infectious. So I don’t really feel uprooted from San Fran because…with her I’m home, you know?”

\-----

**November 11, 2018**

“So, ready for another round?” Delphine says as she puts down two cups of hot cocoa on the coffee table.

“Again?” Cosima groans as she gets her mug before wrapping herself with the quilt Suzanne gave her when she first moved to Montreal. “We’ve been at it for almost two hours…we’re not as young as we used to be,” and she points to the clock ticking 15 minutes past two in the morning.

“But I want to try it one more time,” Delphine replies, giving her cutest puppy dog eyes while taking the quilt by its edge so they can be wrapped together. “Are your fingers too tired, mon amour?” She asks, her lips coasting from Cosima’s palm to the fingers of her free hand.

“Fine,” Cosima relents, bringing Delphine’s face to her lips before cracking her knuckles, “one more go won’t hurt,” and Delphine excitedly reaches out to the other side of the couch to get the game controllers. 

Finding out that Delphine has a proclivity for video games was one of the cute, unexpected surprises of living together. When Cosima brought in her PS4 from San Francisco to Montreal, she didn’t expect coming home to the sight of the blonde actually using it.

“What are you playing?” She asked with a laugh the first time she saw Delphine holding the controller a few months into living together.

“Ultra Street Fighter 4,” Delphine said, eyes focused on the TV screen as she button-mashed her way to beating Evil Ryu with her character, Chun-Li. “You want to play?”

“Ah, yeah, sure,” and with a cocky smile, Cosima dropped her bags on the floor and took the other controller to join the game. “I gotta warn you though,” she said as she picked her favorite fighter, Zangief, “I am very good.”

It only took a round and a rematch for Delphine to wipe the smirk off Cosima’s face. “Just how long were you playing before I got home?” She asked. Delphine didn’t answer and only gave her a naughty smile before busting out a geeky and funny victory dance in their living room. Cosima - turned on by an adorable Delphine - immediately took away the controller from her hands, wanting nothing more but to have her right then and there. One passionate kiss and a nibble of an ear was all it took for Delphine to focus her attention away from the game into more pressing things.

Since then, Delphine began to use the console more, playing casual games every once in a while or watching Cosima play more time-consuming games while she studies her scripts. For her birthday last year, Delphine even gifted her with a Nintendo Switch. 

“I actually fell in line to get my hands on it,” she said while Cosima unwrapped the box. “Three hours well-spent,” Delphine added, “because you seem very happy with it.” 

“Which store had the nerve to let my girlfriend - an Emmy-winning actor and a national treasure, fall in line for hours?” Cosima asked with a toothy, excited grin. “Tell me so I can lodge a complaint. It’s unfair. Some people camped out overnight just to get their hands on a Switch, and you only spent three hours. Star treatment if you ask me.”

“I can give it to one of those campers if you think it’s unfair,” Delphine quipped, matching the teasing with a zinger of her own. 

“No, no, this is mine,” and Cosima takes the console out of the box, “so pretty!” 

Lately though, Delphine had been hoarding the device to play her latest gaming fixation – a couch cooking co-op called Overcooked. It didn’t take long into the off-season for Cosima to be roped into her girlfriend’s addiction, realizing two levels into playing that as simple as it is, the game is actually a good relationship test. Her girlfriend has the patience of a saint, laughing it off when Cosima inadvertently pushes her chef to fall on icy waters or off a moving food truck. The sound of Delphine’s laughter and how her face reddens as she gasps for air while their kitchen gets engulfed in flames are all the incentives Cosima needs to continue playing with Delphine. 

They’ve been playing it for more than a week now, cooking soup, burgers, and burritos among other dishes. Too bad they’re stumped at the very last level.

“So we have to feed the hungry spaghetti meatball monster with all its meal orders – soup, salad, pizza, burgers, fish and chips - in 12 minutes,” Delphine reminds her as she takes one more sip of her drink before putting it back on the table to choose her go-to chef, the Panda.

“Say hungry spaghetti meatball monster one more time babe,” Cosima teases, biting her bottom lip to stop a yawn as she chooses her favorite chef, the Raccoon in a wheelchair.

“Brat,” and Delphine pinches her hip. “We have to stock up on tomatoes,” she instructs, “it’s the common ingredient in all the meals. And please don’t fall off the ledge or set the kitchen on fire this time.”

“Oui, chef. I will resist,” Cosima ups the teasing by putting on a bad French accent as the game starts.

Amidst the frenetic chaos in the virtual kitchen punctuated by their joint squeals and laughter, hoarding tomatoes turned out to be the game changer. “Put those tomatoes in a pan, chérie!” Delphine instructs. “Mon petit chou, the cabbage!”

“Chou in French also means cabbage, right?” Cosima says as she guides the raccoon to get the tomato soup from the pan before it burns. "So am I chopping myself or the veggies?"

“One more wisecrack from you, Cosima,” Delphine warns with a naughty smile, her eyes focused on the screen, “and I swear I won’t put out for the rest of the week. Two more dishes, come on! One minute to go!!!”

“Wow,” and Cosima smirks, “harsh. So what do I get if we finally finish this?” She asks as she prepares the fish and chips for the hungry spaghetti meatball monster.

“If we win this final boss level,” Delphine says, navigating around the wooden planks to wash two dirty plates, “I will ask you to marry me.”

Delphine’s words took Cosima by surprise, but in spite of it, she grabs a freshly-washed dish to plate the fish and chips, dashing to deliver it to the hungry monster. The last dish - a tomato and cabbage salad, only needed one more component since Delphine has already chopped tomatoes in advance. Cosima concentrates, her raccoon wheeling towards the cabbage container to grab one before the moving plank goes out of reach. She chops them furiously and with 15 seconds to go, puts it on the plate of tomatoes.

The hungry spaghetti meatball monster’s hunger is finally sated with only six seconds to go. “By Brussel’s Sprouts! The Beast is full!” The Onion King starts the winning spiel, but Cosima couldn’t pay any attention to the victory.

“Did you really mean what you said? Or did you just say that to shut me up so we can finish the game?”

Delphine gives her a timid smile before quickly disappearing from the living room, rejoining Cosima after a few minutes and putting two small red boxes with gold stitching and locks on the coffee table.

“I meant it,” Delphine says with a shy smile. “Unless you’re not yet ready or -”

Cosima silences her with a kiss, tears flowing from her eyes and mixing with Delphine’s own tears. “Ask me,” she tells her softly, their foreheads touching.

“Cosima,” and Delphine strokes her face, “will you marry me?”

“Yes.” Cosima closes the small gap, taking in the blonde’s lips and giving it a playful bite. “Easy question...” 

\-----

“Congratulations again,” Courtney says. “I think you know from all the years that we’ve been talking to each other that it’s not in my nature as a reporter to ask about personal lives,” she says, “so I hope you would humor me by answering this question.” And Cosima playfully raises an eyebrow before nodding. “It doesn’t take a wizard to know that your relationship has to deal with its fair share of complications – you’re both famous and successful at your chosen fields, you both travel a lot. Despite that, you manage to make it work, enough for you guys to actually get hitched and officially start a life together. I guess my question is - what’s your secret?”

Cosima couldn’t help but laugh at that as she subtly fiddles with her wedding ring. “The secret is,” and she looks at Courtney, “there is no secret. You just wake up everyday and you make a decision to stick it out. There are days when it’s so easy that you choose it unconsciously. And there are times when you’re too angry or pissed to make that choice – when you have to convince yourself that you have to do it. Sometimes I’m the asshole, sometimes she’s the asshole, and sometimes we're both assholes. But regardless of who’s wearing the asshole hat, you still wake up the next day, dead set on stubbornly working it out.”

\-----

**October 4, 2015**

“I cannot believe this,” Cosima huffed as she angrily put down the cast iron pan on the kitchen counter. “I withdrew from a premier mandatory for the first time and you’re telling me you have to fly out to fucking L.A. tonight?!?” And she eyed the contents of the pan, unable to feel even a sliver of pride for making a dish from start to finish. “After you guilt-trip me into staying no less...”

“I never guilt-tripped you into anything!” Delphine matched Cosima’s angry tone. “When I said wouldn’t it be great if we get to celebrate our anniversary on the actual date for a change, I didn’t mean for you to actually not go to Beijing to play your tournament. It’s unbelievable how you can be so self-centered sometimes,” and Delphine walked out to start packing.

“Great! I moved to Montreal for you and I am the selfish one,” Cosima sneered underneath her breath, not letting go of the anger and disappointment. 

Delphine crunched her eyes closed and furiously ran her hand on her hair as she took several dresses and shirts from the closet. “I just thought that of all people, you would understand the need to travel for work at the last minute. I understand it all the time for you, why can’t you do the same for me?”

“It’s our fucking anniversary!” And Cosima began to pace around their bedroom. “And I try my best to be there for the important dates. I try to show up for you.”

“Really?” Delphine said, grabbing a bunch of undergarments to pack in her suitcase. “I didn’t see you anywhere when I won a César this year. You were in Dubai. When Maman had a hysterectomy two months ago, I understood that you couldn’t be there because you had to work. And now you can’t give me a pass for this?” And she zipped up the suitcase and got her wallet, phone, and passport to stow in her messenger bag. “If that isn’t selfish, I don’t know what is,” Delphine said, her voice breaking as she hurriedly got her keys to drive herself to the airport. “I’ll see you in three days,” and she swung the door closed leaving Cosima alone in the house - the angry sound unable to mask the women's sobs and sneers.

Unlike before when she immediately regrets saying hurtful things during a fight, Delphine simmered in fury during the six-hour flight from Montreal to L.A. She always prioritized the need to be there for Cosima, even making sure to finish all her commitments to Totentanz and to her other projects just so she can block out a month to be at the French Open and at Wimbledon – never mind the long, tiring hours needed to actually get a clean month off. She knows their anniversary is important, which is why she tried to reschedule the last minute film re-shoot. But the producers were adamant and it was out of her hands. She expected understanding from her girlfriend and when she didn’t get it, she raged about the unfairness of it all. She fell asleep with a scowl on her face that night, not even bothering to send a word to Cosima that she got to L.A. in one piece.

The next day, after 13-hours worth of shooting, Delphine’s anger has dissipated and has been replaced by sadness. She eyes her phone on the nightstand, wondering what Cosima could be doing or feeling at this very minute. Guilt gnaws at her. Last night was supposed to be a happy celebration - not only of their second anniversary but also of Cosima’s second career grand slam in the recently concluded U.S. Open. How it escalated to a shouting match, Delphine couldn’t remember now.

The worry that was absent last night clutches her heart in full force, urging her to swallow her pride and finally call Cosima. But her calls all went straight to voicemail. “Of course she turned off her phone,” she mutters at the sixth try, “she doesn’t want to talk to you after what you said.” The calls to their house also went unanswered, making Delphine imagine an angry Cosima packing up all her things and leaving her for good. She was about to call Sarah or Felix when a soft knock on her door got her attention.

“Hi,” it’s Cosima and in her relief, Delphine immediately locks the smaller woman in a tight embrace. She wanted nothing more but to eliminate whatever space is between them, but found it impossible because Cosima is carrying a plastic container in one hand.

“I missed your flight by about 30 minutes,” Cosima tells her while opening the lid as she stands by the door. “I didn’t want this paella to go to waste so I brought it with me...I was hoping we could share it. I tasted it this morning and it was okay,” she continues to ramble which made Delphine laugh.

“I’m sorry, mon amour, for all the things I said...for keeping count...” Delphine says, giving Cosima the sincerest kiss she can give. “I called you and the house, and when there was no answer, I was so scared that you -”

“Hey, hey,” and Cosima enters the hotel room, gently shutting the door as she wipes Delphine’s tears. “No matter how hard things are, I will always find a way to come back to you. You can’t get rid of me that easily. Happy anniversary.”

There were no more apologies or explanations needed to be said as they spent the rest of the night on the bed sharing Cosima’s paella with a bottle of white wine before kissing and making up, reverently whispering their love for each other in between moans and whimpers of pleasure.

\-----

With Cosima in a sharing mood, Courtney is tempted to ask more personal questions. She’s in touch with the spikes in the WTA’s social media engagements and web traffic whenever there is a feature on Cosima, especially when it has even a hint of detail about Delphine Cormier. But Courtney reverts to tennis talk, aware that the reason why Cosima chose her for this exclusive interview is because of her penchant for respecting her privacy without even asking.

“Your entire support system seems very solid from the outside looking in,” she comments. “Aside from your wife, your coach - Sarah Manning, has been by your side since 2010. Your physio, Felix Dawkins, joined your team three years later and never left. It’s not only solid but it’s also long-lasting – something quite rare now, given the coaching carousel happening in the tour.”

Cosima nods, immediately welcoming the shift in topic, “I’ve been lucky to be on this crazy trip with people who listen to me and who I listen to...Who have become family essentially. There has always been great trust and belief between us which is why we stuck to each other. Even when all this ends, I’m pretty sure I’m going to listen to Sarah’s advice for the rest of my life. I don’t know if that’s wise or not,” and Cosima laughs.

“And in past interviews you’ve touched on the importance of having a physio who gets you.”

“Yeah, and that’s not a knock on the hardworking and awesome PTs we have on tour,” Cosima clarifies. “But I’ve been fortunate to earn enough and have someone like Felix who knows exactly what my body needs to recover and be match-fit...Who immediately knows what to do when something’s wrong, and who would never subject me to a training or treatment without my consent.”

“Is it true that you were close to retiring in 2013?” Courtney asks. Cosima never discussed it, but it was something that slipped out of the tongue of a USTA representative whom she interviewed when Cosima won a bronze medal in 2016 – the lone American to medal in singles tennis during that staging of the Olympics in Rio de Janeiro.

Cosima smirks, wondering how long Courtney has been sitting on this information. Now is a good time to answer it. “Yeah, that’s true. I was at the end of my rope, tennis-wise. Nothing’s happening, I kept losing. I was beginning to really think that tennis wasn’t for me anymore.” She sighs, remembering the catalyst of that decision – an embarrassing first round loss right here in the red clays of Paris seven years ago. 

“And then I won Nuremberg, Rosmalen, Budapest. Montreal happened after. And when 2013 ended, I was in a place I never thought I would be in - I was actually excited for 2014. I used to dread the start of a new season, just thinking about potential losses made me anxious. I think I told you that when we talked at the end of 2013. Felix has a huge part in that shift because titles or no titles, I don’t think I would have lasted another year if he didn’t get on board with us.”

\----- 

**November 10, 2019**

Sitting next to Sarah and Felix, Cosima anxiously waits on a bench in a doctor’s clinic. The anxiety is not because of the newness of the situation, after all injuries and getting probed by doctors come with the territory. But there’s a certain feeling of inevitability in this particular iteration of this scenario. It is after all her first serious injury, not only career-threatening but also life-altering. 

The long, narrow hallway leading to the exit captures Cosima’s attention, tempting her to stand up, walk away, and just go back home to Montreal to wish away the problem that became more apparent after the U.S. Open. She laughs sarcastically, forgetting for a minute about the pain that comes with standing and walking. Cosima can still remember the look of dread on Delphine’s face that morning when her screams violently roused the blonde from sleep. “Call Felix,” Cosima grunted and Delphine had the presence of mind to put the call on speaker.

“Fee,” Delphine said, “Cosima is in pain. She was fine last night.”

“Cos, is it the lower back? 1 to 10, how painful is it?” Felix asked, the traces of sleep in his voice long gone upon hearing his ward screaming in pain.

“Yeah,” she breathlessly answered amidst tears of agony. “But it’s shooting down my legs this time, dude. Pain at 10.”

“Okay. Delphine, I need you to listen to me very carefully,” his footsteps heavy in the background. “I need you to call an ambulance and bring her to a hospital. Tell them about the spondylolisthesis.” Cosima’s ailment - which causes one of the vertebrae in her lower back to slip out of place - seemed to be the only Biology topic that she shied away from. “Do you have a copy of the latest WADA list?” Felix continued.

“Yes,” Delphine quickly replied, “I saved in on my phone just like you told me.”

“Good girl. Show that to the doctors and tell them to make sure not to use anything in that list to treat the pain,” and if Delphine was taken aback by the urgency in Felix’s voice, she didn’t let it show. “I’m booking a flight to Montreal now and I’ll be there in four hours, max. I’m calling Sarah and the specialist. Hold the fort for now, yeah?”

Cosima was still deep in pain but was all out of screams when the ambulance arrived. She panicked when the paramedics didn’t allow Delphine to ride in the rig with her. “Family only,” one said, looking at Cosima who's too helpless to object. Delphine then spoke in French, the cadence and delivery too fast for her to understand what her fiancée said that changed the paramedics’ minds. 

By the time Felix arrived, the pain was still there but was bearable thanks to the painkillers that dripped from the IV to her veins. Within the same day, the specialist they’ve been working with, Dr. Hazelton, arrived with Sarah. She ordered new x-rays and scans, and confirmed what Cosima and her team had been dreading since 2017 when the back pains became more rampant and pronounced.

“It was slower than we predicted given how much tennis you played,” Dr. Hazelton said as she showed them a comparison of the recent scans to those taken 10 months ago, “but the injury progressed as expected.” Stuck lying in a hospital bed, Cosima could only reach for Delphine’s hand for strength. “10 months ago, it was a borderline Grade 2 spondylolisthesis, manageable with physical therapy...”

“And now it’s a Grade 3 injury,” Felix said while examining the new scans.

“Yes,” Dr. Hazelton said, “and the misplaced disc is now pinching on your sciatic nerve,” and the doctor points to a line in the films near the problematic disc.

“Which is the reason behind the shooting leg pains and my inability to stand up...Sciatica, just great,” Cosima grimly concluded. “So what are my options?”

Dr. Hazelton didn’t mince words. “The first thing you should do is pack up the rest of your season. Take an extended break and continue with the physical therapy for a month or two,” she said, looking to Felix.

“And if the pain comes back? What do we do?” Delphine asked.

“The hope is that the lesser stress is going to prevent the sciatica - that if we let her body rest and we don’t overuse it for at least a month, we can avoid a complicated surgery. If it comes back, my recommendation is to pair the physical therapy with a more drastic pain management scheme.”

The pain came back two months later while Cosima and Delphine were having a quiet dinner at home. She just resumed training and it wasn’t even that intensive. Upon Rachel’s insistence, they went for a second opinion.

“Surgery is your best option,” Dr. Nealon - the doctor Rachel recommended, said as he looked at the scans, “so we can fuse the vertebrae back together. Barring unforeseen complications, you’d be pain free after six months.”

It was a pie in the sky that Cosima didn’t buy. “How can you be sure that the scans tell the entire story of the injury?” She asked him. “What if the surgery fixes this problem but exacerbates another? Can you still guarantee your recovery timeline then?”

Clearly not used to being questioned, Dr. Nealon tried to hide a scowl at what Cosima said. “Yes, there is a possibility that the surgery can weaken the entire vertebrae, but that’s a gamble you just have to take.” That didn’t sit well with her and while Dr. Nealon’s experience and qualifications are impeccable, Cosima didn’t feel comfortable putting her career and health in his hands.

Felix came through for her. Apart from staying in Montreal for her PT sessions, he cashed in favors to get Dr. Kerble – the Czech doctor who saved Petra Kvitova’s left hand after that gruesome knife attack at her home - to fly into Montreal and consult on her case. “You were right to say no to surgery,” he said, carefully looking at the scans, “there’s no room to cut blind when it comes to the vertebrae. Physical therapy slowed the ailment considerably, which is why you should continue with it. But I would recommend adding cortisone in your pain management plan.”

And that’s why they’re here at Dr. Hazelton’s specialized clinic in Toronto, preparing for an out-patient procedure – her first cortisone injection directly in the affected area so she can resume her pre-season training. Cosima is deep in thought about the length of the needle and the treatment’s side effects when Delphine returned with cups of tea and coffee.

Delphine gives her a kiss as soon as she sits down next to her, holding her hand and stroking it with the pads of her fingers. The injury is hard on her too, Cosima knows, with Delphine adjusting her schedule and work obligations so she can stay at home more and help her with the simplest of tasks - moving around the house, cooking meals, taking a bath, using a toilet.

“Romance killer right here,” she joked shortly after the blinding pain returned when she needed Delphine’s help to get up after peeing. “You know, you can still ask for an exchange. You didn’t sign on to take care of an invalid.” The second part of Cosima’s joke was half-meant, fueled by the unfamiliar feeling of helplessness and self-pity.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily, mon amour,” Delphine replied simply, giving her a kiss on the top of her head before helping her get up. 

“Miss Niehaus?” A middle-aged nurse approaches them, yanking Cosima out of her own thoughts, “we’re ready for you.” She gingerly stands up with Felix and Delphine's assistance.

“I’m sorry,” the nurse says while looking at Delphine, “I can’t let you in unless you’re family or part of her medical team.”

“Seriously?!?” Cosima reacts, the tension upping the irritation. “She’s my fiancée and it’s 2019!” She was about to say more but Dr. Hazelton intervenes, going out of the procedure room to see what’s the commotion upon hearing the sound of Cosima’s raised voice. She apologizes profusely, giving the nurse a stern look as they head into the room.

Inside, Felix tries to lighten the mood as Cosima lies on her stomach at the exam table. “You’ll have top duties indefinitely, blondie. You up for it?” Cosima can’t help but laugh when she sees Delphine profusely blushing from the comment.  _ Delphine is a top - injury or no injury _ , she thinks.

That night, even if Cosima practically begged her to use one of the rooms in the house, Delphine chooses to sleep on the floor beside their bed. “I toss and turn a lot, chérie,” she says, the mattress getting filled with air as Delphine carefully removes and replaces the sterile dressing on Cosima’s back. “We have to be very careful and you have to tell me if you need me to ice the injection site,” Delphine says before giving her a light kiss on her lips and turning off the lights.

Lying very still, Cosima couldn’t sleep. Whether it was due to the injection or to the swirling thoughts in her head, she doesn’t know. “Babe,” she says in the darkness, expecting no reply and getting surprised when Delphine turns to face her.

“I’m here,” Delphine softly answers, “what is it?”

“What did you say to those paramedics months ago?”

Delphine gets up and carefully sits beside her, teeth digging on her lower lip as if finding a way to dodge the question. Cosima pleads with her eyes, hoping that's enough to get her to talk. “I asked them if we look familiar,” she finally says, letting out a shaky breath. “I told them they’d let me in that ambulance if they know what’s best for them. Because if they didn’t, I will make sure that their names and faces go viral.” 

“Can we get married as soon as my back stops acting up?” Cosima asks.

“Chérie,” and Delphine strokes the hair on Cosima’s forehead, “are you still not convinced that I’m going to stick around?” 

There is hurt in Delphine’s eyes and Cosima silently curses her bad back because she wanted so badly to quash that thought by wrapping Delphine in her arms. “You know it’s not that...” and Delphine cottons on to what pushed Cosima to say it.

“Okay, mon amour. Rest first. We’ll start sorting it out in the morning. Je t'aime.”

\-----

“All these years, Felix worked hard to keep me in tip-top shape. He made me stronger, more resilient, and kept the injuries at bay,” Cosima continues, “but even the best team cannot defeat Father Time and his painful reminders of physical frailties.”

“You took us all by surprise a month ago in Madrid,” Courtney counters, “when you announced that at age 32, you’re retiring from tennis after this year’s French Open. Can you tell us how you and your team arrived at that decision?”

\-----

**December 20, 2019**

The cortisone treatment which was supposed to keep Cosima pain-free for at least a couple of months seemed to have worn off a few days after her pre-season training. She and Delphine were supposed to get married before the holidays (on Delphine’s birthday), announcing it to the entire family during the Christmas dinner. But with the pain returning tenfold, they had to postpone it, replacing it with a quick trip to Dr. Hazelton’s clinic instead.

“The stress from training pushed your body to its limit,” the doctor said as she examined the scans and updated the medication details in Cosima's Therapeutic Use Exemptions form.

“We were very careful,” Sarah chimed in, “making sure to follow your advice and Fee’s regimen.”

“Yes,” Dr. Hazelton said, “but the sciatica is making the injury temperamental and unpredictable,” she added while preparing another cortisone shot for Cosima’s back. Beside the doctor, Felix squirmed, unable to hide his guilt for Cosima’s physical suffering. “It’s making managing the chronic back pain trickier, more challenging.” It used to be manageable, which’s why the spondylolisthesis diagnosis in late 2015 didn’t feel like a death sentence.

“Maybe I should consider surgery,” Cosima said as she held on to Delphine’s hand, “take my chances and gamble.”

And to this, Felix shook his head. “It’s unnecessary surgery, Cos. If it’s a Grade 5 injury, even just a Grade 4, I’d push for you to go under the knife. But it’s only a mid-Grade 3 injury,” and Felix bit his tongue from saying that the pain would completely go away if she stops playing altogether.

“So this is my life now?” Cosima said as she changed into a medical gown to get another injection. The silence in the room when she said it was broken by Dr. Hazelton who asked her if they could start.

Cosima had already made up her mind in the week of recovery that followed. “I can’t stand watching you suffer,” Delphine says when Cosima asked her if she thinks it’s time to hang up the racquets. “But if you still want to play even if you’re in pain, I’m going to support you. You’re the only one who can decide where to go from here. Just know that whatever you choose, I’ll be in it for the long haul. We, actually,” Delphine corrects herself, “me, Sarah, Felix, your parents...even Rachel.”

Sarah and Felix join the conversation shortly after, sitting on Delphine’s air mattress as they discuss their future.

“At just 5 foot nothing you have 20 titles - three slams, one WTA final, and you even have an Olympic medal,” Sarah says, “we have nothing left to prove, Cos.” And it rarely happens, but Sarah’s eyes have gone glassy with tears. “It’s been a wonderful trip – one I honestly didn’t expect when we drove to our first tournament together. Remember that 25k 10 years ago?”

“Rancho Mirage, California,” Cosima smiles, “chugging along from Berkeley in Siobhan’s truck and eating chips for lunch.”

“Good times,” and Sarah carefully sits beside her to give her a hug. “I never said thank you for...”

“Sar, don’t go gooey on me now,” Cosima grins, trying to keep it light.

“Shut up and just let me say it,” Sarah replies with a sad smirk, “thank you for taking a gamble on me...For letting me stand on your shoulders to reach my dreams.”

“It goes both ways, dude. It goes both ways,” and Sarah smiles before carefully standing up to leave the room. “I’m gonna go help Delphine with dinner,” and she left the room.

“You’ve been quiet,” Cosima says to Felix who kept his head down the entire time.

“This is on me,” Felix says without his usual bravado and confidence. “I could have done more when it first emerged and I -”

“You did everything you can, man,” and Cosima taps the empty space on the bed beside her, asking Felix to sit. “I gotta say though, I feel like I’m on my deathbed, saying my famous last words.” Felix acknowledges the joke, but his somber mood doesn’t change. 

“Maybe we should have tried surgery,” Felix says, second-guessing his stance, “maybe -”

“Let’s not live on the maybes, Fee,” and Cosima holds his hand. “What I know for certain is that you got me to the finish line over and over again these past years. And after crossing the finish line, you fused my achy body together so I can cross more finish lines. We’re now up against time, age, wear and tear...there’s nothing we can do but be okay with the way we end.”

Felix tightens his grip on Cosima’s hand. “You’re right,” and his mood shifts from guilty to determined. “But I promise you this - I’m going to do my very best work for us to finally cross the one finish line that we haven’t yet.”

\-----

“The only way for the pain to end without injections, without surgery is if I stop playing so after deciding as a team, I told my family about it last Christmas. The next day, I called my agent. We knew coming into 2020 that the French Open would be my swan song,” Cosima explains to Courtney.

“Is the encouraging result in Australia the reason why you didn’t announce your retirement there?” Courtney asks.

“That’s a tough question,” Cosima says, “I’d be a hypocrite if I say no because it’s not easy for me to let go of tennis. When I got to the semifinals in Melbourne surprisingly pain-free, there was a part of me that said, ‘ _ hey maybe we can still make it work. _ ’ But then the back started acting up again in Doha and I needed a stronger cortisone shot just to be able to sit and stand. And that was the final nudge. I don’t want that to become my life. The injury has serious implications both in my career and quality of life. Not just my life, but also the lives of my nearest and dearest. I didn’t want to wait for the time when it becomes too painful that even a cortisone shot couldn’t fix it.”

“And there’s nothing left to prove it seems,” Courtney banters, “in a career spanning 10 years that produced 20 titles and an Olympic medal. You were world number one for 64 weeks and ever since you made your Top 10 debut in 2014, you never left. In fact your current ranking – 10 th in the world – is your lowest since 2014.”

“You know, that’s what Sarah said,” Cosima confides.

“But is there really nothing left to prove?” Courtney asks. “Even with the three grand slams – 2014 Wimbledon, 2015 U.S. Open, 2018 Australian Open, there’s still one unexpected missing piece. People have been expecting you to win the French Open, and twice, you came close to winning it – in 2016 and 2017.”

“Yeah,” and Cosima nods her head, “I never did well when the expectations are heavier. I do better when they don’t see me coming.”

“So maybe this time, this one last time - when you’re a sentimental favorite but an underrated choice to win Roland Garros, maybe this is your time?”

Cosima processes the question, latching on a word that Courtney uttered. “You know it’s funny,” she says, “looking back I’ve been dubbed overrated and underrated at some point in my career. And it’s weird because when I started winning, that’s when I became underrated.”

“Do you take offense in that?” Courtney asks.

“No, I love it actually,” Cosima says with a chuckle, “it’s way better than being not rated at all – when nobody cares when I lose.”

“You’re avoiding my question, though,” Courtney observes.

“Well, you got me there,” and Cosima raises both hands in surrender. “Look, if you’re asking me if I’d love to win the French Open, the answer is it’ll be hella great if I do. But if I don’t, I’d be sad but it’s not going to be the source of my sleepless nights from hereon in. My life is richer and better because of tennis, but tennis is just a part of who I am. Right now, I’ll take what I can get in this last stop of my career.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tennis stuff :):
> 
> *The 2020 French Open is supposed to start this Sunday but has been pushed to September 2020 due to the Coronavirus pandemic. Even with the new date, it's still not certain if it would be staged this year (and if they would allow a live audience for the matches).   
*The WADA list is essentially a document that contains all banned substances in sports. You can check it out here if you want - https://www.wada-ama.org/sites/default/files/wada_2020_english_prohibited_list_0.pdf 
> 
> Important stuff :D:  
*Big thanks to Aramblingowl who back in January floated the idea of covering the other grand slams. Your comments gave me a concrete idea as to how to end the story. :D   
*Usual thanks to Corsan for the exchange of ideas and opinions, some of which have spilled over this story and gave it a new dimension.
> 
> More important stuff :D:  
Thank you so much to everybody giving this story a shot, leaving comments, and kudos. I hope my replies convey how much I appreciate your support to this story - a story I was actually quite afraid to start because I knew it was going to be long and challenging. I wish you all well wherever you may be. There are only two chapters left and I hope you stick around for them. As always, tell me what you like and didn't like. :)


	27. The Unexpected Missing Piece, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today would have been the women's singles finals of the French Open. I'm not sure if we're getting any tennis this year so I made this chapter quite long. :)

**Fourth Round, Roland Garros 2020**

It’s the silence.

More than figuring out the rules of the game, coping with month-long separations, and trying to maintain a brave facade in the face of adversities, when it comes to accepting tennis as part of her life, Delphine has the hardest time adjusting to the silence. To her, nothing can counter the quiet. Not the murmurs among the audience permeating throughout a match. Not the oohs and aahs during long and blistering rallies. Not the occasional grunts from players. Not even the typical polite applause barely bordering on boisterous.

When they moved in together, Delphine thought that she’d prepared for everything that tennis would change in her life. She just didn’t expect how much “_ Quiet, please _ ” – two simple but iconic words associated with tennis - can rattle her, more so than ever before. Because for as long as silence surrounds Delphine in a tennis court, it means that a match is still being played and Cosima is still out there hitting a fuzzy yellow ball ad nauseam. And every time an umpire utters “ _ silence, s'il vous plait, _” there is still a chance for the match to turn - whether it’s to their favor or not depends on the accuracy of Cosima’s shots and the temperament of her tender back. 

Delphine has long given up on finding peace while sitting in silence at any player’s box. Because the quiet and all the white noises that try to distort it are the soundtrack of her wife’s dogged efforts to test her threshold for pain and heartache. The silence, as far as Delphine is concerned, is an enemy – invisible but as real as the other person on the other side of the net.

_ “Playing against Niehaus is one of my dreams. She is my idol. I have nothing to lose, so no pressure or anything,” the teen said in her press conference two nights ago. _

_ “You know, I met her when she was just 12,” Cosima drowsily said before she muted the TV and rested her head on Delphine’s chest, “minutes before I first watched Totentanz.” _

_ “What?” And Delphine placed the script she’s studying on the floor before she pressed a loving kiss on Cosima’s forehead. _

_ “I haven’t told you this story before?” Cosima looked up at her, continuing when Delphine shook her head. “It was on the flight to Montreal from Budapest. I met her and her mom on the way to the loo.” And just like clockwork, the TV shows a picture of Cosima with a young girl in pigtails taken inside an airplane.“Yep, I’m old, babe.” _

_ “Well, that makes two of us,” Delphine said, unmuting the TV to hear the teen talk about idolizing her wife. “It’s a good thing we decided to grow old together, non?” And Cosima slowly gave her a kiss. _

_ “It would be a great experience. Even losing would be nice,” Cosima's teenage opponent said, with a hint of laughter in her voice. _

“Here we go,” Sarah says as Cosima enters Court Simonne Mathieu with her opponent, a Hungarian prodigy named Judith Marosi. It’s been a walk in the park for the first three rounds, with Felix deeming the draw as “the clay tennis gods essentially placing their bets on Cosima one last time.” But Sarah knows that danger lurks in this fourth round match. 18 years old and ranked 94th, Marosi managed to upset the 16th seeded Wang Qiang in the second round. She went on to win her third round match against Monica Puig - the 2016 Olympic gold medalist - even after being served a bagel in the first set. 

It isn’t long until the umpire asks everyone to find their seats and keep quiet as the tussle’s about to start. Delphine complies, biting hard on her lower lip to keep herself from nervously screaming. 

_ “Halte là, Halte là, Halte là - Les Canadiens sont là!” Delphine sang at the top of her lungs inside a noisy arena. _

_ “So this is where you let it all out, huh?” Cosima interrupted her mid-chant the first time they went to a hockey game in 2015 – a surprise excursion to Centre Bell before Cosima’s European clay season. “What does the song even mean?” _

_ “I’ll tell you if you tell me how you got us tickets at the last minute,” Delphine said. Her cheeky American girlfriend led her to believe that her surprise gift to mark the anniversary of their Prague trip was a simple, red Go Habs Go shirt. But wrapped inside it were two rink-side seats for the first game of the Habs’ playoff run. She squealed at the sight of the tickets and made sure to proudly wear the shirt tonight too. Cosima also donned the same shirt, albeit hidden underneath her coat to avoid any conflicts with her clothing sponsor. _

_ “One of your Montreal Canadiens is dating a tennis player,” Cosima shared with that endearing grin that Delphine always missed when they’re away from each other.“So this morning I called in a favor and she asked him for a couple of tickets. He threw in a couple of shirts just for kicks. And here we are – a plexiglass away from a concussion. So, do you like it?” _

_ Delphine was on her feet, frenetically waving a white handkerchief in the air before she wiped the grin off Cosima’s face with kisses. She was about to tell her how much she loved the surprise when one of the Habs got body checked right in front of them. Cosima hid her shock well as the glass swayed to absorb the impact, but she couldn’t hide her amused laughter when Delphine began angrily banging on the glass to give the opposing players a piece of her mind. _

_ “Wow,” Cosima screamed incredulously in between laughs, “I don’t know if I should be thankful or jealous that you’re not this passionate and loud during my matches.” Delphine’s reply was drowned out by the Habs’ goal horn and the deafening singsong cheers of “Allez, Allez, Allez, Allez, Montréal!” from the 21,000-strong home crowd. _

Delphine had wanted to tell Cosima then that she didn’t know when she exactly crossed the line from simply being passionate, to being completely invested not only in Cosima’s match results but in her physical, mental, and emotional well-being before, during, and after a tennis season. She never told Cosima, instead opting to show how invested she is with every wholehearted acceptance of tennis’ life alterations. She takes comfort in the fact that Cosima knows...that she feels it - enough for her to never question her devotion again no matter how noisy she got during the many times they’ve watched the Habs live since that first time. 

The quiet is more bearable for Delphine during matches like this though, when Cosima seems to be dead set on giving her younger opponent a great experience - albeit in the form of a scathing tennis lesson. She’s putting in a vintage performance with the way she’s sliding around the clay court and hitting her deadly backhands-down-the-line. If Delphine didn’t know any better, she wouldn’t think Cosima is 32 and retiring.

It’s also one of those days when the tennis ball seems to obey Cosima’s every command. And while the silence was never her friend, Delphine knows that her wife relies on it to hear the spin on the ball and to figure out how hard it’s coming her way. Cosima’s ears are on-point this afternoon, helping her orchestrate winners in five shots or less - a strategy that Sarah planned to shorten rallies and preserve her back. The game plan is paying dividends as Cosima holds to take the first set at 6-1.

She’s definitely going to miss the way Cosima looks when she’s really enjoying a match - not because she’s winning lopsidedly but because all her hard work in practice is actually taking flight on court. Even in the heartbreaking losses here in Paris, Delphine found a sliver of comfort in catching the subtle tell-tale signs of happiness, unnoticeable to the typical spectator but not to her. When Cosima’s really happy about the way she’s playing, she licks her lips as she bounces the ball before her serve. She also painstakingly folds her towels when she’s on her chair. And she gives a blink-and-you-miss-it wink to her player’s box when she hits an ace or a tricky return.

Recently, Cosima’s developed a new tell – the hint of a smile whenever she tightens her shoelaces.

“_ I don’t mind, mon amour, _ ” _ Delphine reassured as she talked and watched Cosima through her laptop. “You need to take it off when you play. It could catch on your racquet’s tape when you grip...” _

_ Cosima never took her gaze away from her wedding ring, absently playing with it as Delphine talked. “Where do you keep yours when you’re working?” She finally looked up to ask. _

_ Delphine carefully tugged at her costume, exposing a creamy shoulder. “Right here,” and she pulled out a bra strap to show the safety-pinned wedding ring, “always close to my heart.” _

_ “Ooh, is that black lace?” And Cosima abandoned her previous preoccupation with her wedding ring. “You know, I have 30 minutes until Sarah and Felix come back...” _

_ “You’re in the Middle East,” Delphine said with a laugh, “and I’m at work.” _

_ “And that just makes me hornier for you,” and Cosima, with her face resting on a palm, lovingly looked at her. “I miss you.” _

_ “I miss you too,” Delphine said, trying not to look too worried about her wife’s health. _

_ “The ring in the bra strap is hella sexy,” Cosima conceded, “but I don’t think that would work. You know how I just throw my sweaty clothes in the bag and forget about them.” _

_ “So where are you going to keep it?” Delphine asked. _

_ “I’ll think of something.” _

Delphine saw the shine of the platinum band, tied tight in Cosima’s left shoe, as the camera focused on the calculated little steps she took to return a shot during her quarterfinals in Dubai last February. “So you’re always close to me, no matter what,” she told her when she asked. She swooned then and she swoons now as Cosima - up 4-love in the second set - puts the racquet aside to tighten her laces with a small smile tugging at her lips.

In part, Delphine knows that she should thank the silence for making her a more astute observer. But the silence is also traitor, because cataloging all of Cosima’s emotional tells includes not only the recognition of happiness but also of pain and worry.

Like the signs of happiness, the signs of discomfort start off as minute. She was serving for a 5-0 lead when Delphine first saw it – Cosima repeatedly pulling on her ear as she tossed a ball to a ballkid. She wanted to believe that she was misinterpreting things, but Felix’s slightly worried look confirms her hunch. Another tell – the tightening of lips to mute a grimace - plays out when she went up 40-15 in the same service game after engaging her young opponent in a rare 15-shot rally.

The need to read between the lines goes out the window five minutes later when Marosi saves one of Cosima’s two match points with an ace. The quiet of Court Simonne Mathieu, a court inside Jardin des Serres d’Auteuil and located right beside the Palmarium, is disturbed by collective gasps of concern as Cosima clutches on to her lower back after awkwardly trying to reach for the serve out wide. She grinds her teeth and winces before telling the umpire that she’s good to continue. “But I’ll need a physio before the next game,” she adds.

Delphine could only manage a shallow sigh of relief when her wife’s young opponent committed a double fault at match point, putting an end to the match after only 47 minutes. And while she definitely won’t miss the quiet when all this is over, she’d gladly sit in and around the silence rather than hear the sounds that follow after a match – Cosima’s howls of agony as she tries to will her body to recover just in time for another match in another quiet court.

\-----

**Quarterfinals, Roland Garros 2020**

With unexpected ease, Felix gets comfortable in his seat this late afternoon. The light is abundant and the winds minimal, creating the perfect conditions not only for clay court tennis but also for wearing his sunglasses to hide tired, worried eyes. And as Cosima enters Court Suzanne Lenglen with her quarterfinal opponent, Angelique Kerber, Felix couldn’t help but utter a silent plea.

“Please let this be less than two hours.”

They’ve been busy these past two days, focused on making the remaining matches of their last tournament a bit more bearable for Cosima. Sarah took the lead in strategizing, taking notes as she watched Kerber’s past clay matches. Delphine did what she does best - shower Cosima with love and understanding, which has been a consistent source of silver linings nowadays. And Felix was left with the unenviable task of temporarily quelling the injured back’s rebellion against the demands Cosima has long made upon it.

_ “The back is holding on...” Felix said to Sarah and Delphine after finishing a short rehab session in the morning after the fourth round. “She needs to rest, continue with physio.” _

_ “Is she hurting?” Delphine asked. _

_ “Yes, the pain is her body’s way of saying it doesn’t want to do this anymore,” Felix would say if he’s being honest. Instead, he conjured a sugar-coated reply. “Yes,” quickly darting his eyes away from Delphine. “But nowadays she’s a seven on a good day, pain-wise. We’re going to the training centre later for cryotherapy.” And Delphine wordlessly headed to their room to get back to her wife. _

_ “Does that work?” Sarah asked. “And did Hazelton give the go-ahead?” _

_ “Cosima requested it. Her elbow and ankles hurt too,” Felix supplied, “so at least cryotherapy will ease that. If nothing else, it will help her sleep better.” _

Felix knows that Sarah isn’t questioning his treatment decisions; that the doubts she expresses are coming from a place of genuine concern. Still, it didn’t lighten the weight he has been carrying on his shoulders since 2015 - when a U.S. Open tournament doctor diagnosed Cosima’s spondylolisthesis after winning the title.

“_ It goes away after two days of rest and rehab, _ ” _ Cosima said to the doctor who checked the list of supplements and medicines she ingested recently. _

_ “So this is the first time you’ve experienced this kind of pain in your back?” The doctor asked. _

_ “No, there’s always some bearable pain there, but...” and Cosima worriedly looked at Felix, “honestly, I thought it was my hip.” _

_ “That’s where we focused our rehab work,” Felix added, providing the doctor with their PT and recovery regimens. _

_ With his questions answered, the doctor ordered standard x-rays and scans. And as Delphine entered the exam room, Felix left to join Sarah who was waiting outside. _

_ “I think I made a huge mistake,” he said to his sister, “I don’t think it’s her hip, Sar.” _

Sarah seems like she’s sitting on thumbtacks as she fidgets beside him. Clay is Kerber’s weakest surface, but that doesn’t negate the fact that she’s a three-time grand slam champion and a former world number one. And when Kerber breaks for a 4-2 lead in the first set, Sarah’s squirming becomes more evident, upping the anxiety in the already tensed player’s box.

“The plan is not working...” Sarah dejectedly concludes. The plan: shorten the points by hitting as close to the lines as possible to put opponents out of position earlier, worked with the four other girls before mainly because Cosima was still fresh and confident. It also helped that they were inexperienced or clueless about playing on clay.

In crafting that strategy, Felix added his own target – finish matches in 90 minutes or less. Cosima’s been doing well in that department, with the longest clocking at 75 minutes. But that streak needs to be halted today...unless Cosima’s too physically compromised to put up a fight.

“She has no choice but to beat Kerber at her own game - lengthen rallies, make her slide and stop on clay. Bait her to hit on the run,” Sarah adds knowing that Cosima is the more natural mover on the red surface. “Can her back take it?”

“I hope so,” he says as Cosima mounts a mini-run to hold for a 4-3 score. “But for how long, I don’t know,” he adds with resignation.

“It’s just a slow start,” Delphine tells them, disturbing the dark cloud hanging over their box. “And this is good for Cosima. We’ve been treating her like it’s 2014...like she’s going to break at the slightest of pressure. It didn’t work then, it won’t work now.” 

“What made you say that?” Felix asks, surprised at Delphine’s confident words. She’d been too nervous to even utter a complete sentence in the previous matches.

“She told me,” Delphine replies. “She said the first four rounds were easy, so facing Kerber is actually good for her conditioning, for the tougher matches ahead,” and as soon as she said that, Cosima breaks to level the score at 4-4.

“You think there’ll be more matches?” Felix asks - his smile now a bit wider.

“Two more, hopefully,” and Delphine reaches out to squeeze his hand. “You promised her that you’ll get her to the finish line, so if you say her back can handle it then I believe that... because I believe in you.” And although her voice is tinged with concern, it doesn’t have any hint of blame - something Felix appreciates.

“_ We’re in the hospital, _ ” _ Delphine said, “The doctors know about the injury and WADA. Where are you?” _

_ “In the airport,” Felix replied, “the 10 a.m. flight. Sarah is flying with Hazelton later. How is she?” _

_ “She’s crying in pain before I got kicked out of the room,” words that broke Felix’s heart. “We’re staying overnight just to get the pain down to a more manageable level.” _

“_ Delphine, I’m...so sorry. This is on me, _ ” _ Felix sighed, “I didn’t see it the first time. I should have known better and -” _

_ “Please stop,” and Delphine let out a tired breath.“The doctors agree that even an earlier diagnosis wouldn’t have made a difference. No one blames you, Felix, and this isn’t just on you. We each have a role to play here – you, me, Sarah. Let’s stop haranguing ourselves and just focus on Cosima. That’s all we can do.... So get to Montreal and get her better.” _

Felix scowls at the end of the first set, the chase from 2-4 down turned out to be for naught as Cosima loses the tiebreak at 7-2. Kerber played a perfect tiebreak - spreading her groundstrokes around the court with immaculate depth and redirection. She was so good that Cosima found herself playing passively even when she began sinking her teeth into the rallies - the pain that originates from Cosima’s back seems to have found a way to move to her mind

The only way for this to not be Cosima’s last professional match is for her to be more aggressive, but aggression comes with risks. Felix doesn’t know how much more pain Cosima can take - especially now that she’s maxed out on cortisone.

“She can handle it,” Delphine says to him, sensing his worry before the second set started, “you made sure she could all these years. Trust yourself the way she trusts you...”

“The way we all trust you,” Sarah adds, her gaze focused on the court as Cosima sprints to the service line.

From the start of the second set, Felix could see Cosima upping the aggression, combining the shorten-the-points playbook with her signature balanced tenacity. She opens up the court with groundstrokes that probe more angles and lines, showing no signs of fear in striking her forehand with primal but calculated ferocity. They immediately pay off, breaking Kerber in the first game of the second set. 

With the groundstrokes now humming, Cosima now has to tighten her serves. In the first set Felix saw Cosima’s hesitation - winning only 47% of points in her first serve - because she’s not accustomed to using it to set up easy points. She starts her first service game with a love hold – an encouraging sign, but the service troubles resurfaced by the time the score line ticked 5-3. With Cosima serving for the second set, a couple of loose errors on her forehand gave Kerber break point. 

Felix wants to take his eyes away from the action, convinced that Kerber would catch up soon. He takes off his sunglasses and looks at Cosima instead. “Just go for it, Cos. Whatever hurts, we’ll fix it later.”

Down a break point, Cosima decides to go for a body serve. Kerber didn’t expect it and shanks the return. _ Deuce _. She goes for another body serve in the next point but a crafty Kerber returns the ball with an angle, and Cosima had to hit a cross-court forehand return on the run. Sensing that Kerber is going for a backhand drop shot, Cosima uses her superior movement on clay to propel herself to the net. She gets to the ball before the second bounce, hitting it high enough to land on the forecourt. Kerber could only watch the ball die. A fist pump with clenched teeth from his ward and they’re at set point.

That last point was physically demanding and Felix rubs his back, feeling sympathy pains. Cosima changes things up by serving wide, but Kerber strikes beautifully. She then made sure that Kerber ran to return, repeating the process five or six times. But one careless shot gave Kerber an opening to turn the tables and move Cosima from side to side. Felix can only imagine the painful vibrations in Cosima’s joints as she stops and slides on clay to doggedly make Kerber play one more ball. 

Finally, Kerber can only manufacture a slice return which gives Cosima space to hit targets – the edge of the line on the deuce court. Out of position, Kerber can only hit a looper, and with Cosima following the trajectory of the ball, she moves to the ad court and times an unreturnable smash. The 18-shot rally, with Cosima gaining the upper hand just in time, sends the game to a third set.

“The physio is out,” Delphine points to a woman waiting by the player’s entrance.

“That’s not for us, blondie,” Felix says as they watch the physio run towards Kerber who already took off her shoe.

“Huh,” Sarah grins, “I told Cos to put a blister on Kerber’s head by outhitting her, but a toe blister fits the bill too.”

With the toe taped up, Kerber continues to hang on, utilizing drop shot-volley combos that always bothers Cosima. But his ward kept her head down and went to work, displaying her ability to carve up the court with sharp angles even with a compromised back. The injury concerns take a backseat as Felix sees the Cosima of old in the third set, balancing impenetrable defense and stifling attacks. By the middle of the third set, Cosima has already accelerated towards the finish line. And after giving Kerber polite cheek kisses for the 6-7, 6-3, 6-1 win, Cosima draws a heart on the clay, something she’s done since the first round - her way of telling Paris _ no hard feelings _. 

“Look,” Delphine says, clapping for Cosima and pointing to the clock displaying the match time: 1 hour, 53 minutes.

“Silver linings,” Felix wryly smiles. And with the semifinals in the horizon, he begins to seriously consider if silver linings are enough to fuel their trek to the finish line. 

\-----

**Semifinals, Roland Garros 2020**

_ “In tennis, there are big asks and there are impossible asks,” Siobhan told Sarah after Cosima lost in the 2014 French Open semis. _

_ “Lemme guess,” Sarah said, only half-paying attention because her charge is missing,“it’s my job to figure out which is which, right?” She called Siobhan to ask if she heard from Cosima, but she got irritated when the conversation turned to tennis wisdom she didn’t possess. _

_ “No, chicken,” Siobhan calmly said, “your goal is to make Cosima believe that big asks are normal wins, and impossible asks are just big asks. Your job is to bring both asks down a notch.” _

_ “How the fuck am I gonna do that when I don’t even know where the bloody hell she is?” Sarah fumed. _

_ “It starts with you,” Siobhan replied, “you used to play, you know how it feels -” _

_ “I’m way over my head here, S,” Sarah confessed, “I’m not cut out for this.” _

_ “You think Cosima isn’t thinking the same things?” Siobhan asked. “That you have the monopoly of doubts? It starts with you, Sarah. The sooner you figure it out, the better.” _

Sarah remembers Siobhan’s words as she drinks another cup of tea in the morning of semifinals day. The house has been quiet since yesterday’s quarterfinals, with minimal talks of strategies resulting in an early night. Sarah didn’t know how much rest she got, just that she spent more time forcing herself to sleep. By 4 a.m. she stopped trying, opting to wallow in the solitude of an empty kitchen instead of tossing and turning in bed.

She barely finished her first cup of tea when she felt the urge to call Siobhan and say she’s wrong. The past two years have muddled the lines between the big and impossible because it’s been one impossible ask after another for Cosima. She puts away her phone because Siobhan wasn’t completely wrong. As it turns out, it did start with her.

When Siobhan first said “_ It starts with you,” _ Sarah believed that “ _ It _” meant accountability and responsibility. Sarah’s responsible and accountable to and for Cosima and her tennis career – the wins, the losses, and all the emotional, physical, and mental upheavals in between. And while that’s how it has always been between them, she took the mantra more seriously after the 2014 Paris meltdown. “It’s on me,” Sarah would always say when Cosima began to doubt herself, and she meant it every time. She believed that the approach worked since it produced 12 titles - two of which are grand slams.

But after Cosima’s 2015 win in Flushing Meadows, the mantra began losing its luster and efficacy. They didn’t notice it at first - blinded by the high rankings, prize money, and good performances in non-slam events which all softened the blow of a two-year slam drought. Cosima needed to lose the French Open finals twice for Sarah to realize that while the statement still works, Cosima has outgrown Sarah’s interpretation of it. The Parisian clay losses made Sarah understand that Cosima has changed as a tennis player - that while she continues to believe that she can still win, her transition from young gun to elder statesman has been mired with insecurities.

_ “I know I can still win,” Cosima told Sarah after losing the 2016 French Open final against Garbiñe Muguruza. “But she’s younger. Too strong, too quick, too good. I couldn’t keep up.” _

_ “I had it,” Cosima said in tears after her shock loss to Jelena Ostapenko at the 2017 French Open where she was up a set and a break before it all fell apart. “But she’s young...fearless. And I’m getting too old for this.” _

For Sarah, _ “it starts with you” _post-2017 French Open was no longer about helping Cosima carry the weight of professional tennis hoping the lighter load will make her believe she can win. It has evolved to convincing Cosima that her insecurities as an older tennis player are her assets. Yes, she’s older and more brittle, but she’s also more experienced and relaxed in the big stages. Most younger champions aren’t like that.

And the shift that started in Sarah' perception produced results. After getting the upset treatment from the unranked Ostapenko, Cosima won four hardcourt titles: Montreal (much to Delphine’s delight), Cincinnati, Wuhan, and Beijing - where Cosima clinched the World #1 ranking for the first time in her career. It’s an exclamation point to the statement she’s been trying to make since that unexpected defeat: _ Write me off at your own risk _. She continued the late-2017 surge with a win at the 2018 Australian Open, further cementing her status as the best women’s tennis player in the world until injuries cut her reign.

This afternoon, the evolution of “_ it starts with you _” will be put to the test when they go up against a player that Cosima has grown quite insecure with in the past few years.

_ “She’s me -” Cosima said as they watched their semifinal opponent hack the opposition with her backhands last night. “A healthy, three years younger, French Open champion version of me. She’s going to make my legs burn, and she’ll enjoy it so much she’ll want to roast s’mores on them.” _

_ “Can’t argue with that,” and Sarah played back the third set when Simona Halep came alive to defeat her opponent. “But she’s probably thinking the same things about you.” _

_ “Right…” Cosima’s sarcasm oozed. “Simona – arguably the best clay-courter since Henin with legs as strong as tree trunks, is actually afraid that Grandma Cosima will take her to the woodshed tomorrow.” _

_ “No,” and Sarah paused the video, “she’s probably thinking Cosima is like me – only more experienced, more decorated. She’s probably thinking Cosima has strong legs too. That tomorrow she has three opponents: you, destiny, and the crowd.” _

_ “I don’t know...It’s pretty impossible, Sar,” Cosima sighed. “Maybe two years ago, I’d be up for it. But now...” _

_ “But now you have nothing to lose - no next tournament or ranking to worry about,” Sarah said as she pressed play. “And don’t forget, you made a career out of defying impossible asks. It’s a little too late now to sell yourself short, pun intended.” _

_ “Yeah, you’re one to talk,” and Sarah could tell based on the grin on Cosima’s lips that she struck a chord. _

As Felix checked her taped-up ankles and lower back, Cosima whispered something in Delphine’s ear which elicited a shy smile and was rewarded with a kiss. After curt nods toward Sarah’s way, Delphine and Felix left them alone in the tunnels to await their fate this afternoon.

“Very quickly,” Cosima says, “remind me again of the big picture.”

Sarah looks out for any eavesdroppers before she speaks. Cosima nods along and a few minutes later, Halep stands at a distance having a similar chat with her team. After a quick handshake with Darren Cahill, Halep’s coach, Sarah made her way to their seats where Felix, Delphine, and Cos’ parents were nervously waiting for the match to start.

Injury or no injury, playing against Romania’s Halep is always tough for Cosima. They have a similar game which has yielded an even 4-4 head-to-head and a punishing average match length of 2 hours, 38 minutes. They last met in the 2018 Cincinnati finals where Cosima had to save match points in the second set tiebreak before spurting to the finish line with a 7-5 score. 

A Halep-Niehaus match is always a battle of who is fitter and who could dictate the points from the baseline. Both areas of contention are directly proportional to each other: the more conditioned player dominates. With the Romanian undoubtedly fitter, Cosima has to rely on experience, instinct, intellect, and luck to flip the script. 

_ “Okay, big picture? You gotta trick her into thinking that you’re going to play your usual game. Keep up appearances with subtle changes so she can’t problem-solve early in the match.” _

The shop talk was minimal last night because Sarah only focused on the big picture, giving Cosima free rein in deciding exactly what she needs to do. The lack of specifics coming into the match makes the strategy risky, hare-brained even. Cosima can’t give too much power on her shots because like her, Halep absorbs pace very well. One wrong adjustment and Cosima will end up tired not only from running but also from hitting.

With Halep predictably choosing to receive after winning the coin toss, Sarah is left with nothing to do but reluctantly sit back and figure out the subtle changes her charge has chosen for this match. Apart from Cosima giving a bit more power to her backhands, the first eight games yielded no significant tells as both players held serves. She sees it as Cosima trying to lull Halep into a false sense of normalcy but at 5-4 with Halep serving to stay level in the match, Sarah notices that the slightly juiced backhand is actually part of the change Cosima is manufacturing. 

In the span of eight games, Halep had to retreat a little farther to the baseline to deal with the backhand. With the score at 15-all, Cosima unleashes three powerful backhands that paint the lines in succession, with Halep returning all of them via her own deadly two-handed backhand. On the ninth shot of the rally - with the Romanian firmly planted at the far end of the court to neutralize another one of the American’s searing backhand returns - Cosima executed a light-as-air backhand drop shot that took her opponent by surprise. 15-30, and Sarah smirks because the strategy completely flew over her head.

In the next point, Sarah can see that Halep - now wary of the tactic - has adjusted and moved forward. Sarah expected Cosima to switch it up: to ease up on the backhand so she can add power to her forehand. But to her surprise, Cosima decided to do something else mid-rally: she played it safe, looping a rally ball deep that luckily landed in the right spot because Halep decided mid-swing to mix things up too. The indecision resulted in an uncharacteristically confused forehand that sent the ball fluttering weakly into the net. 15-40 and Cosima has two set points.

It’s eerie how Cosima and Halep are alike, how they both berate themselves or their boxes when things go awry. Halep was shouting passionate frustrations in Romanian to her coach and physio, which turned out to be an inadequate method to expel the tension arising from Cosima’s tactical trickery. She ends up handing the first set, 6-4, to the American via a frustrated double fault.

By the time they’re preparing for the second set, Sarah can see Halep already using her high tennis IQ to problem-solve. But in the first rally of the second set, Sarah already senses that Cosima has switched to Plan B - another unexpected move given how effective Plan A was.

“_ If all else fails, leave it all out there in the court today. _”

If the first set was business-as-usual tennis, Cosima’s second set is on-a-mission-for-redemption tennis. Sarah is part proud and worried at the sight of her friend leaving it all out on the court, pushing shots so deep that the ball doesn’t bounce high enough for Halep to start a rally more to her liking. But the Romanian didn’t win two grand slams by playing passive, brainless tennis and when push came to shove, she found a way to claw back from a 4-2 deficit to even the score. It’s Cosima’s turn to castigate her box in panic as Halep threatens to go up 4-5 after securing a break point.

“_ And please stay away from the third set. _”

“Come on, Cos. Big picture time,” Sarah says, calmly absorbing Cosima’s furious frustrations. She knows from experience that the often-unspoken truth about tennis is that sometimes there is a need to see your opponent make a mistake - to see that she’s nervous too so you can relax and get the job done. So while the fight back from the Romanian is brutal counterpunching tennis of rich quality, Cosima at this point has already calmed down and regained her confidence after seeing enough mistakes from her opponent’s racquet. 

And as Halep committed another error: a strong but mistimed backhand that compromised her court position, Cosima’s panic had already fluttered enabling her to make a forehand squash-shot return to the open court. 

She ends up holding her serve, and at 5-4, 30-40, Cosima produces what Sarah thinks as the best backhand winner of the afternoon - a backhand so laser-sharp that it reminded her of how much she hated playing against Cosima back in the day. The match is done and dusted in 103 minutes at 6-4, 6-4, and the first thing Cosima does after making the winning shot is to look at her box and point to her temple. Her intellect saved her today.

Later, while having dinner at the house – the reality of playing one last match not yet sinking in – the clanging of utensils on plates collectively stopped as they listened to Halep’s assessment of Cosima’s performance. _ “I played her wrong,” _ she says, _ “she put a lot of pressure on my game...Even when she doesn’t hit with a lot of power, the shot is very long with good depth.” _

Sarah smirks. It’s easy to relate to Halep’s words, remembering the times she told Siobhan “_ I played her wrong _” after losing to Cosima. 

“Your game sucks you know,” she ribs Cosima like they are still under-16 players, making Cosima laugh at the years-old memory. “I am not going to miss your tricks when you retire." It’s a lie of course. Sarah is going to miss it all when they reach their last stop in a few days - when the only fresh start that she needs to figure out is where she goes from here.

\-----

**Finals, Roland Garros 2020**

She opens her eyes and feels disoriented. Over the course of a night’s sleep, she has forgotten who and where she is, what day it is, and what she’s doing in this house. The glimmers of her reality begins to take form as she looks around, her eyes landing on the largest piece of furniture in the room – the bed. She vaguely remembers trading it for the floor sometime last night. Back at home, there’s an orthopedic mattress that doesn’t sink which is good for her back. In this unfamiliar room though, the bed is soft and won’t do her any physical favors today. 

On the bed, she finds her glasses and with the world visually clearer, she sees the sleep-worn bed sheet beside her.

She wasn’t the only one who slept on the floor last night.

Unable to put two and two together, she forces her brain to whir out of the confusion by remembering basic truths.

“I’m Cosima Niehaus,” she says. “My wife is Delphine Cormier.” Cosima tries to sit up, “we’ve been together six years, married for four months. We live in Montreal,” and she exhales a low groan when she fails to move, “but we’re staying in this rented house in Boulougne-Billancourt because I’m playing in the French Open finals at 3 p.m.” She gingerly rolls to her side, “I play professional tennis,” waits for the pain to subside, “I’m 32 years old,” before she finally manages to sit up with tolerable pain.

“32,” and with the utterance came visions of an alternate life – one where her father (_ Gene... _) never brought her to a tennis club as a child. She lets her foggy mind wander to it: to a PhD in Molecular Biology or Evo-Devo; to cutting-edge research and cushy teaching positions; to a townhouse in a sleepy college town with a roof deck where she can build a greenhouse, grow her own crop, and get completely baked whenever she wants.

Cosima stops picturing it when she realizes that that life didn’t involve her wife.

She takes a deep breath instead, trying to get into the mindset of a typical 32-year-old: relatively young and hopeful for what the future holds. But it takes a lot of convincing, especially when she feels like an arthritic 64-year-old every time she wakes up, the quarter of a century spent chasing after a small yellow (_ or is it yellow-green?) _ ball taking its toll and distorting absolute truths.

She hears the chatter of familiar voices from where she’s sitting: two Brits, a man (_ Felix...) _ and a woman _ (Sarah...) _, drowning the laughter of another woman with the most comforting voice – her Delphine, the woman who slept on the floor beside her all throughout the tournament. She stands up, wanting to join in the conversation, but her palm automatically grabs a rebelling back in an effort to soothe and convince it to give her one more day in the sun.

“One more day in the sun,” and the last piece of the puzzle dawns on Cosima. Whatever happens today, she would officially become _a former_ _professional tennis player _by dinner. Travelling, practicing, and playing 10 months in a year would be relegated to the past, along with the near-extraordinary measures to make sure that happens – the most recent of which is courtesy of her agent (_Rachel Duncan), _who flew in her doctor (_Hassletown?_) to administer a cortisone shot before the quarterfinals a few days ago.

_ Just one more day in the sun... _ and she couldn’t help but smirk at the feeling of a new future almost there for the taking. Cosima twists the door open, only to hurriedly let go of the knob when a different thought crosses her mind. _ Give me more days in the sun... _ unable to shake off the sudden melancholia of leaving the only life she knew behind.

The voices from the other room grab Cosima’s attention again, with Delphine leading the conversation this time. Something about Nutella pancakes, coffee, and breakfast in bed. The thought of seeing her wife in just a few steps gets Cosima moving, making her temporarily forget how she feels about the end and if her body would even allow her to finish.

In the kitchen, the morning rays give an unnecessary touch-up to the already-glorious undulations of Delphine’s blonde hair. The oval of her face in profile, the beauty marks on her neck, small perfect lips, tall and slender body, bare feet on tiles – everything about her - inspires romanticism. And when Cosima reaches her, gentle hazel eyes reminiscent of a bathe-in-sunlight forest and a shy-happy smile greets her.

“Good morning, mon amour.” 

And just like that, her world wonderfully snaps back into place.

They’re on a tight schedule as always. After breakfast, Cosima spends precious minutes with Delphine washing dishes by hand and talking about simple everyday stuff. It’s the domesticity they miss during the tennis season. Lately, their simple talks revolve around houses, specifically the 12 houses that made their shortlist. Buying a house together has been years in the making and they’re finally doing it with time no longer scarce after Paris.

With a kiss, Delphine hands Cosima to Felix for her morning stretches and rehab work. The routine always starts with questions about pain levels. “It’s a good day,” Cosima says, “so a 7.” They then wordlessly proceed with the regimen and 40 minutes later, Felix asks the same question. “It hurts bub,” Cosima says, “but it’s still a good day.” A quick hug signals the end of morning physio.

Like clockwork, Sarah is in the hallway waiting for Cosima with a strawberry smoothie. They talk about how not to play and what to look out for before settling in the small garden patio. They keep the strategy talk broad, which Cosima likes since they’ve talked out the specifics yesterday. Their conference usually ends with plans for their next tournament, but this being their last dance, Cosima can tell that Sarah is at a loss as to how to conclude.

“I’m taking Kira to Iceland after,” she chooses to say.

“For how long?”

“I don’t know,” Sarah tries to hide a sly smile. “Depends...”

“I’ve always liked Cal.”

“Is it time for us to talk about non-tennis things? Because I’m down for it if you are,” and Sarah laughs at words she has said a hundred times over the course of 10 years.

“You started it,” Cosima retorts, finishing her smoothie and heading to her room with a nod to her coach.

The 45 minutes that follow is the only time Cosima has to herself before a match. The solitude before heading to the stadium is a sacred ritual - it’s when she talks herself into believing that she can at least finish the match. It starts with a shower, with Cosima making no sudden movements under the hot stream to avoid tweaking anything. She towels off then applies her eyeliner, her vain version of war paint. The entire process is done in 15 minutes.

She then packs her bags meticulously: 12 strung racquets, 12 hair ties, six change of clothes including extra kits, six pairs of socks, six headbands, six wristbands, six rolls of grip tape, six rolls of extra strings, six packs of date-and-coconut food gel, three sets of contact lenses, three water bottles, three tubes of electrolyte tablets, three bananas, three toiletry kits, a pair of stretching gear, a pair of rubber shoes, a skipping rope, a spiral notebook and a pen.

“Give me one more day in the sun,” she says out loud to herself, to her back, to the tennis gods watching her asinine ritual. She zips them up, eyes the three keychains attached to the tennis bag - a miniature Montreal license plate, Bobby’s Bar London, and the Golden Gate Bridge. She’s off after grabbing her phone.

Time goes by quickly after that. She listens to the same four songs in the short drive to the stadium. Arriving a quarter past noon, Cosima meets up with her hitting partner, practicing returns as Sarah and Felix watch from the baseline. The goal is to feel the ball without overworking the back before match time. 15 minutes into the hit and Sarah silently takes over the practice session, making her return a variety of shots. The goal now is to feel her swings.

The next time she sees Delphine (who met up with her parents) is 45 minutes later, when Cosima’s eating a yogurt parfait. She drinks a few ounces of water every 15 minutes. She gets a hug from her mom and her dad before they leave for their seats. She makes her way to the locker room for a quick shower while her team hangs around to wait. Felix helps tape her ankles and back before leaving with Delphine. She preps and dresses up as Sarah sits on a bench. Cosima wears her shoes, removing her wedding band to loop it tight around her left shoelace. She takes off her glasses and pops in the contacts.

40 minutes before match time, she and Sarah go to the gym in the tunnels. Cosima gets on a treadmill, her eyes focused on the television where last preparations are being done on the clay court. 15 minutes before match time and they’re back in the tunnels. Felix gives the taping one last check. “All set,” he says with a tight smile. Delphine approaches her, lower lip nervously trapped between teeth. “Je t'aime,” she whispers in her ear before giving her a kiss on the cheek that lingers. 

In the past six matches, it has become Cosima’s habit to tell her wife a house choice before she leaves the tunnels. She threw in some wildcards to make her own fun…

_ “Henri-Jarry,” Cosima said to Delphine before the quarterfinals. _

_ “The one with exposed electrical wiring around the pool?” And Cosima snickered at the comical way Delphine’s jaw dropped. “Non. Let’s get a house that gives us a better chance at growing old together.” _

And some inspiring prospects.

_ “Chemin Sainte-Marie,” Cosima whispered before the semifinals and Delphine smiled at that. The charming wood-glass house used to be an artist’s studio and residence. It needs modern updating but the abundant natural light made them see its potential - along with imaginings of their daily life in it. It immediately entered the shortlist even before the showing ended. _

“Cours Gables,” Cosima whispers now, and Delphine’s eyes go wide. She knows that the waterfront home is Delphine’s favorite among the bunch. She loves the house too – the mix of modern and classic, the master bathroom with a panoramic view of the St. Lawrence River, and the customizable roof deck sealing the deal for her. If ever she feels up to hitting a few balls, there’s also a public hard court facing the river a couple of blocks away. “After this, let’s make an offer?” 

She gets her answer in the form of a shy snicker then a passionate kiss. Suddenly, it isn’t so hard for Cosima to get into the young mindset. Whatever happens, their future is right there for the taking.

The only time her opponent crosses her mind again is when she’s alone with Sarah. “Cos, don’t fall in love with the cross-court or she’s going to have a field day with you.”

Their opponent arrives and the serendipity amuses Cosima. She won her first grand slam in Wimbledon against Genie Bouchard - a 20-year-old Canadian. And in her last match, her last chance at French Open redemption, she’s going to duke it out with Bianca Andreescu – a fearless 19-year-old Canadian by way of Romania, the current U.S. Open champion. If Halep was an impossible ask, Andreescu is a bigger impossible ask because she’s essentially like Martina Hingis but with more power – i.e. someone who can really toy with her on court. With one last fist bump, Sarah wishes her good luck and leaves for the player’s box.

_ “Odysseus, Sisyphus,” _ Cosima always thinks before playing the finals. The result ends the Odyssey for one player and the other would have to continue pushing a boulder up a hill. Then she remembers - this is her last match. There would be no rock-pushing exercises waiting for her if she fails. Win or lose, the journey ends and she’d be home. And for the first time in the tournament, the thought calms her.

At 3 p.m., they’re making their way into the court. Andreescu climbs the stairs to the stadium first, hand-in-hand with a red-haired young boy. Cosima is paired with a young girl who has blonde curls and brown eyes. She can tell from the child’s misplaced bow that her mother probably styled her hair for this occasion. She’s probably going to have a mini-stroke when she sees her daughter’s wild blonde locks now.

“Comment tu t'appelles?” She asks as they walk on court.

“Je m'appelle Elisabeth.” 

The sight of a child who has her eyes and her wife’s hair is Cosima’s last non-tennis thought as the match starts. The upside of playing against Andreescu is that they’re quite similar so they’re after the same things: court positioning and the need to strike a balance in patience and risk-taking. At least that’s an easy read - unless Andreescu has tricks up her sleeves.

What’s up Andreescu’s sleeves is a challenge with every stroke. The young Canadian is bringing a bit more power on her returns, giving her a greater say in their rallies and resulting in Cosima losing her serve early. She knows it’s early because she hadn’t even opened a food gel – something she consumes every 30 minutes during a match. She tightens her bun, making a decision to match the kid’s power. Cosima ends up breaking back immediately. So far, so good.

In Cosima’s next service game, she can feel through her racquet that Andreescu is hitting harder with a force she couldn’t match without risking her back. She can see from her side of the court that her fearless opponent is successfully choosing the right moments to step in on her forehand. Cosima could only shake her head when she realizes that what comes next after Andreescu’s challenge is an imposition of her power. Her serve gets broken again. Andreescu then muscles her way to a service hold. And before she can fight back, Cosima is going to her chair. She just lost the first set. 

“_ Good news, bad news, _ ” Cosima thinks before the second set. “ _ Good news – the back and the legs are still having a good day. Bad news – if you don’t figure it out soon, it’s going to be a really bad day. I had four or five winners in the first set, none from cross-court. She had a hundred winners. Okay, 15, 16? Shit! I made too many cross-courts didn’t I? _” And Cosima looks at her box, sure that Sarah is thinking the same. “I’m such an idiot,” and completely misses the stern look the umpire gives her.

Cosima puts her theory to the test after Andreescu holds in the first game of the second set. In one rally, she notices Andreescu actively targeting her cross-court shot, dumping the ball back to her with killer forehands, then ending the point with a forehand winner or a drop shot. Her theory is proven but it comes at a price as Cosima allows herself to acknowledge the scoreboard for the first time this afternoon. 3-6, 0-2. She had lost five straight games since breaking back in the first set.

“_ The match is done. It’s gone, _” is Cosima’s first thought. But as Andreescu pushes a forehand return way out, she remembers the Ostapenko match from three years ago. When Andreescu’s drop shot fails to clear the net, memories of the Sharapova match flood her mind. In both tussles, she was up a set and a break - and still lost.

It starts with a question: “_ Can I come back from this? _” Followed by initial actions: avoid the cross-court, get more balls back, see where it goes. The question and action led to a break of serve, Andreescu pushing her return wide after Cosima’s forehand hit a target: near Bianca’s left foot, barely inside the line. She consolidates her break as the unforced errors begin to creep up from her young opponent. They hold on to their serves after, tweaking their shots to compensate for their mistakes. 

“Each player gets one additional challenge,” the umpire announces.

_ “Oh fuck we’re going to a tiebreak?” _ Cosima’s mind screams, quickly running to her chair to drink water and consume her third pack of energy goo. 

In what she believes to be the last tiebreak of her career, Cosima expected Bianca to play like she did for most of the match – powerful returns equals more points. What she didn’t expect is that Andreescu actually has the gumption to fall over 10 feet behind the baseline, slicing her way to easy points. Cosima falls for it hook, line, and sinker - always late in returning shots. She’s down a mini-break in the breaker when she looks to her box. And even through Sarah’s poker face, she can still hear her thoughts about what she needs to do.

_ “You’re letting her get away with bloody murder! She’s so far back! Move forward! Swing volley! _” 

Swing volleys scare Cosima nowadays - the necessary swinging motion, the transfer of energy from legs to torso, and the mini-leap to make it more formidable just plain hurts. “Might as well go down swinging,” she says. So the next time Andreescu sent a slice shot her way, she moved forward, got into position, and made a forehand swing volley. And because it already hurts, Cosima decides to gamble on her next serve - out wide targeting the kid’s backhand, using the small gust of wind to make sure it kisses the very limits of the service line. An ace - her first in the match.

But Andreescu has already proven that she doesn’t crumble under pressure, and after realizing that her opponent knows how to nail a swing volley, she reverted to powerful returning. Cosima hesitates to match Bianca’s intensity at the risk of intolerable pain. She hears the crowd roar and she lets it get to her because why the hell not - it’s her last professional tennis match. 

They’re saying her name: “CO-SI-MA, CO-SI-MA,” and when she wonders why, she realizes that it’s because Andreescu is now at championship point.

“This is going to hurt,” she murmurs to her shoes as she prepares to receive.

“FAULT!” Andreescu immediately contests the line call. The umpire goes down to check the mark. 

It looked out so Cosima didn’t take a swing. 

But if the umpire deems it good, it’s over. 

Cosima accepts her fate. “_ It’s been a good run. _”

“Out,” the umpire pinches his middle finger and thumb together to show the narrow distance between the ball mark and the line. The stadium erupts and Cosima takes a deep breath. She looks at her shoes. “Come on, baby,” talking to the ring attached to it.

Andreescu’s second serve at championship point reminded her of Delphine’s pancakes this morning: fluffy and delicious. She gives that serve what it deserves - a punishing forehand to the open court, praying to whoever is out there that she didn’t overcook it. When it lands in, she looks at Delphine – pale as a ghost but still gorgeous - and she gives her a wink. “Thanks babe.”

Cosima takes a gamble in her next serve – it’s slower but useful in starting rallies, and less painful to execute. The first serve lands in and Andreescu returns with her forehand. She returns the ball and her opponent gives her a high ball. Cosima concentrates to kill it with a cross court swing volley. She’s at set point after the kid’s return gets foiled by the net.

She reminds herself to not pull anything stupid, letting out hisses while walking to the other side of the court. She was going for a body serve but it clips the net and ricochets to her court. It didn’t even have enough lift for a let. Cosima focuses all her energy and concentration on her second serve._ “It needs to land in,” _ she repeats in her head, before loading up, pushing up, and driving off to the court. The serve is puffy but at least it lands inside the service box. From where she’s standing, she can see Andreescu’s opportunistic eyes going wide. 

Cosima hears the sound of the ball and pumps her fist. Andreescu’s return has too much juice. It sails out.

“Physio,” Cosima almost screams to the umpire, her pleas drowned out by cheers. The first niggles of pain is always scary because it’s always followed by the blinding, _ please-let-this-be-over _ variant of suffering. The physio arrives and asks her what’s wrong.

“I need my back re-taped tighter,” and Cosima lifts her shirt, “and massage it a little.” With towels sprawled on the court, she lies on her stomach and closes her eyes, afraid to see her box’s sudden mood shift from elation to worry. It will crush her spirit, the same way her heart breaks when she hears Delphine’s muffled cries after every cortisone treatment. 

“_ Please give me one last hour in the sun, _ ” words that Cosima holds on to as she gets her treatment, “ _ just enough to finish. _” When she opens her eyes, she sees another physio standing behind Andreescu, massaging the teen’s shoulder. She tunes it out and gets up from the ground to plop a hydration tablet in her water bottle and test the taping by stretching and jogging back to court. The pain is now a solid 8, another increase and she’d be a sitting duck on court. She laughs on the inside when she sees the scoreboard - her pain level mirroring her tiebreaker score, 8-6.

While Cosima doesn’t want to blame or credit injuries for the outcome of any match, she can feel the power from the Andreescu racquet becoming more manageable at the start of the third set. And as she takes the lead for the first time in the match after breaking serve, she fights off the sense of complacency. She can’t relax because things can still turn on a dime – as she has learned from her bitter losses.

Like she’s done all season long, Bianca puts the past behind her as she continues to battle until she gets the final set back on serve by changing the rhythm of rallies with unexpected slices. Emotionally exhausted from worrying about injuries, Cosima laps up the energy of the crowd instead of wallowing on the costly double fault that erased her lead.

Mentally fried, she reverts to what comes as second nature to her - counterpunch relentlessly. Cosima takes time away from Andreescu by coming forward when she’s slicing, taking note of her forehand slices that always come high. Her legs, thankfully, can still run and she decides to grind the youngster down and hope for the best. Daylight comes in the form of another break point, _ “just fucking return the ball,” _ she coaches herself every time she runs to hit a shot. “ _ It doesn’t have to be the prettiest shot, _ ” as she neutralizes a backhand down the line, “y _ ou’re not getting through me, kid, _” and on the 21st shot of the rally, Andreescu’s swing volley backhand fails to clear the net.

By this time, Cosima feels no more pain. She sees the scoreboard, 5-3, a hold of serve away from the end. She looks up to the Parisian sky and lets out a nervous breath. “Just give me four good serves,” she pleads to her back, “and then you can go on vacation.” 

The first serve clears the net, and five shots later, Andreescu has given her a looper. She steps forward and hits a backhand down the line. 

“Three more” and she produces a T-serve out of thin air. Bianca continues to run to every shot, until she hits a forehand that gets her out of position. Cosima hits a cross-court backhand to the open court. 

“Two more,” and all she manages to produce is an 85 mph floater. Andreescu risks it and pummels it with her forehand that lands around nine inches out from the baseline. 

Cosima takes a moment as the umpire asks the audience for silence. She looks at her box and feels her tears beginning to form. She closes her eyes, emptying her mind of losses, wins, pain, Bianca Andreescu, of Odysseus and Sisyphus. 

It’s just her, the ball, and the racquet. 

_ Please sail in. _

The serve, a 98 mph beauty, crosses and reaches its intended target – Andreescu’s backhand, who after making the shot went on to cover the other side of the court, baiting a cross-court return. Cosima hits a straight and low forehand instead, and a slightly wrongfooted Andreescu bends to reach it. Urging herself to move forward, Cosima hits a swing volley from the middle of the court that lands on the edge of Andreescu’s deuce court.

“Jeu, set et match, Madame Niehaus-Cormier. 3-6, 7-6, 6-3.” 

Cosima falls to the ground, her knee socks getting covered in clay. Andreescu crosses to her side of the net, kneels in front of her, and gives her a congratulatory hug. Cosima cries on her shoulder before Bianca helps her get up as they walk to the umpire to shake his hand. 

She gingerly walks back where she fell on court to pick up her racquet and draw the biggest heart she could on the red dirt. She points to her box and sees the proud and crying faces of her parents, her team, and her wife.She sheds more tears on court before an interviewer taps her shoulder and hands her a mic, asking her to recite her retirement speech. 

“First of all, congratulations to Bibi and her team,” and Cosima smiles amidst the tears, “you’re going to be even bigger, kid. Congratulations on your run.” And Andreescu claps from her seat and gives her a sad but genuine smile as the interviewer translates what she said in French. 

“I actually wrote something last night in French, an eloquent speech...but I’m not going to read that and just speak from the heart if that’s okay with you guys,” and the crowd claps and cheers, signalling their approval. 

“I walked away from tennis many years ago in search of something more in life apart from the loneliness of hitting a ball over and over again. And though I did find a lot, I came back to tennis because I felt that I didn’t search hard enough the first time around.”

From where she’s standing, Cosima sees her wife proudly cheering her on, the ensnared lower lip partially hidden by her hand. Delphine then blows her a kiss and if only she could, she’d climb over to the stands and kiss her senseless. “I’ve been asking myself these past two weeks what it is I found when I came back so that I can share it to all of you before I end. And this is what I found,” and Cosima points to the heart she has drawn on the red clays of Court Philippe Chatrier.

“I found love in its most unconditional and accepting form. Love for the game regardless of the result. Love for my fellow players even if we’re trying to tear each other’s heads off on court. Love for the fans no matter who you’re cheering for. Love for the people who stuck it out with me through losing streaks and championships. It took me years to understand... But I am happy that I came back to take a closer look because no matter how hard it got - trophies or no trophies - tennis always led me to love. And in the tough times, it is love that got me back on my feet, that pushes me to play for one more ball.”

Her voice shakes and her body quivers. The tears gushed more when she saw the interviewer getting teary-eyed at her words.

“And I will carry all the love you have generously shown me – even in times when I didn’t deserve it – for as long as I live. Je vous aime.” Cosima then walks to stand inside the heart on the clay and bows to every corner of the stadium, eternally grateful to be able to convey _ Je t'aime _ instead of _ No hard feelings. _

The entire Chatrier is on their feet, drowning Cosima’s tears and sobs with thunderous applause. Up in her player’s section, Sarah tears up before getting wrapped around Felix and Delphine’s arms. Sally and Gene pat Sarah on her shoulders – shoulders that help carry Cosima to dizzying heights. It’s hard to find a dry eye in the house. 

And as Cosima holds the Coupe Suzanne Lenglen, the trophy she dreamed of winning 14 years ago when she won here as a junior, she feels like she’s finally able to let go of the boulder she’s been pushing uphill for the last 25 years. Her tennis journey ended with an improbable victory, but a glance at Delphine is all Cosima needs to realize that there are bigger, sweeter victories waiting for her in the next chapter of her life. She hoists her trophy, humbly looking up to the sky and whispering _thank you_ to the tennis gods - not for the titles or accolades - but for that hit and giggle in Montreal all those years ago that gave her the best kind of love she didn’t know she deserved. A love she intends to hold on to forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As we near the end, there are so many people I'd like to thank:
> 
> *Corsan - Thank you mon amie for reading this chapter last night and for telling me your thoughts. The ideas we have shared not only about stories but about everything else are something I cherish. I can't thank you enough :).  
*Iminvested - For the constant encouragement every update and for the tennis talks.  
*Aramblingowl - For giving me the idea about how to finish the story.  
*QueenofAces - For geeking out with me about tennis and sharing with us your unique tennis stories. Please write your story and share it with us.  
*CL81 - For the honest feedback and ideas that ultimately got into this story. Here's to hoping Bibi wins the real deal this September-October :).  
*Lana_Maundrell - For the support, the talks, and the inspiring ideas. Write some more :)!  
*LizzieHoultLawrence - For reminding me of the awesomeness that is Guga Kuerten. :)
> 
> And to everybody who gave this story a shot, who left kudos and comments along the way, a big thank you. You have been really awesome you guys :). There is an epilogue that's coming and I hope you stick around for that one last chapter. Just saying that there's one more chapter left is making me a bit emotional. 
> 
> Please stay safe and well wherever you are. And please let me know what you think, what you like and didn't like.


	28. Epilogue

**Five hours later**

** _A Woman For All Surfaces_ **

_ In her last professional tennis match, Cosima Niehaus - once dubbed as U.S.A.’s Lost Tennis Prodigy - claimed a place in history as only the 11 _ _ th _ _ woman to win all four grand slam events after a furious comeback win at the French Open _

She got out of her chair and headed towards the baseline, her familiar black knee socks covered in crusty clay dust. She braced for impact, tightening everything that needs to hold: sweaty dreadlocks up in a bun; shoelaces with a looped wedding ring; a mummified back; a temperamental service game. The on-court mic picked up a hint of what’s going on inside her head as she stared into the other side of the net to meet her fate on a late afternoon.

“One more game in the sun.”

The entire ritual looked familiar - but different too, for in that moment Cosima Niehaus was becoming a new woman. Not everyone gets a shot at redemption so late in their career - much more in their last professional match, but on Saturday, the 6 th of June at 5:44 p.m. Paris time, Niehaus did. It took two hours and 34 minutes of gritty, lung-busting, back-breaking tennis for her to overcome Canada’s Bianca Andreescu 3-6, 7-6, 6-3, ending a 10-year career by hoisting the one trophy that eluded her so many times – La Fameuse Coupe Suzanne Lenglen.

The chance to right the haunting losses Niehaus suffered at Roland Garros in the 2016 and 2017 French finals – to future #1 Garbiñe Muguruza and then to a seemingly inferior and unranked Jelena Ostapenko – almost passed her by today, with the American needing to save a championship point in the second set breaker. Had Andreescu’s serve went in or had Niehaus fumbled her return, this article would be an obituary - a postmortem on a successful, albeit enigmatic career cut short by injuries.

Instead, and to the delight of many, this article is a toast to the wonders of tennis as a sport - a rare career grand slam; a storybook ending; the role of destiny, belief, and courage in a game so known for its penchant for loneliness and isolation; and a nod to a very welcome feel-good notion in today’s trying and interesting times:  _ nice guys don’t always finish last _ . 

“I love all of you,” a teary-eyed Niehaus said to the crowd in her wife’s (the actor Delphine Cormier) native tongue. And judging from the claps, cheers, and tears from the 14,000 souls inside Court Philippe Chatrier, the love is definitely reciprocated.

On the ground, Wimbledon Champion Marion Bartoli tried to keep her composure as she interviewed Niehaus and translated her winning farewell speech. High up in the nosebleed sections, fans enthusiastically waved their Canadian flags. “Of course we came here to support Bianca,” one Canadian fan said, “but in our eyes, Cosima is one of us too. She’s married to a Canadian and lives in Montreal. We’re happy for her win.”

In the stands, Sarah Manning - a fiery former pro who metamorphosed into Niehaus’ consistently stoic and sage coach - was unsuccessfully fighting back tears. On the row above them, Niehaus’ parents and wife received congratulatory hugs from strangers nearby who, like them, watched the American claw her way back to victory with bated breath. Felix Dawkins, physio and trainer, breathed out a big sigh of relief before joining in on the emotional celebration.

Inside commentary booths, grand slam champions of yesteryears covering the finals were tearing up too – well aware of how it feels to have a Grand Slam drought come to a happy end. “She has accomplished what so many of us could only dream about,” former world #1 Justine Henin beamed in her coverage for France TV Sport. Henin, a winner of seven grand slams (four of which are French Opens), is missing Wimbledon’s Venus Rosewater Dish from her well-curated collection.

In the booth beside Henin’s her compatriot and four-time slam winner Kim Clijsters, who like Niehaus lost in the finals of Roland Garros twice, had a palm over her mouth to muffle her sobs. “It takes a lot of mental and emotional strength to finally win Roland Garros,” she said for Eurosport, “imagine the heart and courage it took for Cosima to fight not only a younger opponent but also time and injuries. It’s unbelievable.”

Speaking to players in late April after Niehaus announced her retirement from tennis effective after the French Open, Simona Halep - Niehaus’ semi-final opponent said - “I respect dominance. I admire it, wish I could do it, but I can’t relate to it. I can relate to losing. I know the feeling...How hard it is to get up again. Watching Cosima lose so often, so publicly in her career, it was easy to relate. I felt for her...We all did.” And in her penultimate victory, her peers celebrated with Niehaus as the love for her spilled out from Chatrier onto social media and tennis locker rooms.

“Congratulations, Cosima!!!” Two-time Wimbledon Champion Petra Kvitova tweeted alongside the picture that will immortalize Niehaus’ tennis legacy – a heart drawn on clay, the humbled victor falling on her knees in gratitude and disbelief. “So thoroughly deserved,” British #1 Johanna Konta replied to Kvitova's post.

In the fitness facilities of the Nottingham Open in Great Britain, Belinda Bencic and Donna Vekic took time off from their workout schedule to share their tearful reaction to Niehaus’ win on Instagram. Beside them, Barbora Strycova ribbed Manning, once her doubles partner. “There’s no crying in tennis, Sar! Congrats Cos!” They joined the many others from in and out of tennis who expressed their happiness and congratulations to undoubtedly one of the sport’s most universally-loved figures.

“This is a young woman so popular in the dressing room, who was never hot-housed at all in a tennis academy or pushed…It was all about love of the game for Cosima,” a commentator said over at Roland Garros Radio. And how fitting it was for Niehaus to end her career with words of love for the sport where she made an indelible mark.

“I found love in its most unconditional and accepting form… And in the tough times, it is love that got me back on my feet, that pushes me to play for one more ball.” Amidst the emergence of new champions, gritty matches, and cutthroat rivalries, it is easy to forget that love is more than just a dreaded scoreline in tennis. We have Cosima Niehaus to thank for reminding us of the emotions that make our sport great.

Her time under the Parisian sun finally came. Better late than never.

Lying in bed after a long but happy day, Sally reads the article for the third time since returning from the restaurant. They had grand plans for tonight - for when Cosima finally wins her French Open and calls it a day. They just didn’t expect how tired they all were until they downed their second bottle of champagne.

From across the table after the main course, their daughter rested her head on her wife’s shoulders – subtly rubbing her cheek and kissing the exposed skin at first, but eventually dozing off, her light snores and askew glasses eliciting a soft laugh from Delphine. They were halfway into dessert when they quietly settled the bill and woke her up. “Tomorrow,” Cosima promised with a drowsy smile as they headed to the car, “we’re going to really party.” 

Delphine asked Sally and Gene to stay in the house instead of going back to their hotel room. “It wouldn’t feel complete without you,” she reasoned, offering to cook them a delicious breakfast the next day to sweeten the proposition. “She makes killer Nutella pancakes,” Felix added. They were happy to say yes - breakfast or no breakfast - and upon arriving at the house, they helped Delphine in assisting an asleep Cosima to their bedroom as Sarah and Felix took care of their gear.

“What are you doing?” Gene asked as Cosima’s arms were slung around his and Sally’s shoulders while Delphine pulled out the bed sheets.

“She likes to sleep on the floor,” their daughter-in-law quietly said as she spread out the sheets. “Good for the back, she said,” before she grabbed a pillow from the bed. Sally was about to ask where Delphine would sleep, but as she watched her spread out another sheet and grab another pillow, she got her answer. Sally kissed them good night, smiling at the thought of how her daughter had really found her match.

“I’m gonna have this framed,” Sally says to Gene when he joins her in bed. “Along with the other articles I’ve bookmarked.”

“Where will you hang them?” He asks while fluffing his pillow. “The walls of the home office are already filled with framed articles and magazine covers.”

“I figured I could put it on my desk at work,” and Gene looks surprised at Sally’s words. “A reminder of why I finally quit smoking, you know?” Her husband kisses her good night before turning off the bedside lamp. And as Sally reads the article again, she can’t help but breathe easier with her worries about her daughter’s career and life now part of the past.

\-----

**Five days later**

** **

** _Voices from the Player’s Box: Sarah Manning_ **

_ Voices from the Player’s Box (VPB) is a series of articles that shines the spotlight on the people behind your favorite tennis players. Fresh from their French Open victory, we talk to Sarah Manning – Cosima Niehaus’ longtime coach - in this series’ first edition. _

**VPB: Can you tell a bit about yourself and your tennis background?**

**Manning: ** I’m Sarah Manning. I’m -  ** _was_ ** \- Cosima Niehaus’ coach since 2010. I’m originally from London, but I’ve been based in Toronto for 13, 14 years now. I used to play tennis until about 21 years of age after about half a dozen shoulder operations made me stop.

**VPB: Not a lot of people know that you were a top junior – you won the Wimbledon Girls’ Title, and that you were a promising pro. Your career was unfortunately cut short by injuries, but what is it about tennis that you like most?**

**Manning:** When I still played I loved being alone on court. I liked that I’m responsible for everything. In a team sport, even if you get along with everybody, when you lose you can still blame a teammate or a coach. Playing tennis, I was all alone in the forest. I win or lose because of me. Everything was in my hands. So yeah, I liked that. 

**VPB: How did you get into coaching? Did it come naturally?**

**Manning:** My Mum, Siobhan, was my coach when I played so maybe it came a bit naturally. She’s self-taught and I thought if she could do it, maybe I could too. Honestly, I was a bit lucky that I sort of found my way into coaching.

**VPB: Tell us more about the early days of coaching Cosima? How did that happen?**

**Manning:** Cos and I go way back. We played juniors together so she knew of me and I knew of her, but we became friends after I crushed her in the 2004 Wimbledon girls’ quarterfinals. She approached me in the locker room after the match, asking what she did wrong. I wanted to gloat so I humored her with answers ( _ laughs _ ). From there, we began exchanging emails and videos of our matches, analyzing our game – what went wrong, what we can do right. So in a way, we started out as each other’s coaches. Even when she left tennis for a bit, I was still seeking her out for advice.

While Cos was in uni, my Mum, my brother ( _ Felix Dawkins, Niehaus’ trainer/physio _ ), and I moved to Toronto in a last-ditch effort to get my shoulder fixed. When that didn’t work, I retired and became a club pro. Along the way I had my daughter. All throughout those changes, Cos and I stayed in touch. And then after a long shift at the tennis club, I get a call from her asking if she can put my name down as her coach for this 25k she’s planning to enter. And the rest is history.

**VPB: What did you like most about coaching Cosima?**

**Manning:** What intrigued me all throughout our partnership was how intelligent Cosima is as a tennis player. She always asked a lot of questions: “Should I put more spin on that ball?” “Am I mixing up my serves well?” “Should I move forward?” As a coach, I like that because that tells me that no matter the ranking, Cosima still believes there’s room for improvement.

**VPB: And what did you hate most?**

**Manning: ** I’m out of the job now so I guess I don’t need to hold back, right ( _ chuckles _ )? Seriously, I think what I hated most is how Cosima takes every setback too much to heart. That’s also something consistent about her.

I remembered our first year together - we were hitting up these 10K, 25K ITF tournaments all over California. In our fourth tournament, in Laguna Niguel, she lost a first round match for the first time since we started. I deal with losses by downing a couple of shots of bourbon followed by a long, good night’s rest. Cosima isn’t like that. She likes to talk about it, thresh it out. 

She’s a firm believer that great sorrows and the sorriest of defeats could be times of great transformation - which is a good thing on its own. But she feels the need to dive deep to the very roots of the pain for the change to happen for her. In the process, she gets too harsh on herself. And as I’ve said, she’s so intelligent and eloquent that by the end of our talks, I feel the loss the same way she does. It’s heavy stuff...but at the same time it helped me realize what I need to do as her coach.

**VPB:** **Which was?**

**Manning:** That I have to find a way to help carry the load with her... 90% of a tennis coach’s job is finding ways to give your player good headspace and for me to do that, I had to convince Cosima to believe that tennis is just a part of her humanity. Sure it’s a huge chunk of her life, but she’s more than just a tennis player. I had a lot of help from Delphine with regards to that. I think making her understand that tennis doesn’t define her is the key for her to experience sorrows and losses without blame or self-pity; for her to dwell on the loss but look forward to the next day when we get another shot. Then there is shared responsibility. If she doubts a strategy, her serve or a shot, I tell her to go for it because it’s on me.

**VPB: But that goes against what you like about tennis?**

**Manning:** What I **_liked_** about tennis. I needed to see things from the player’s box to realize that I wasn’t completely alone when I was still playing. I had my Mum who’s also my coach. I had Fe. I had people carrying the load with me, winning with me, hurting with me. I had to work hard to change my own mindset for me to be able to do that for Cos.

**VPB: You mentioned getting help from Delphine Cormier, Cosima’s wife. Can you tell us what the dynamic is like, what her role was in Cosima’s tennis career?**

**Manning:** She helps carry the load with us. She has a huge role that doesn’t end after a match or a season. And that’s all I’m going to say about that...

**VPB: Looking back, what has been the most difficult period of your partnership with Cosima?**

**Manning:** I think the most difficult was after Cos won Wimbledon and the U.S. Open. The period was all about asking “what now?” We butted heads a lot over the course of 10 years, but most of our arguments happened during that 2016-2017 period. And if she replaced me then, I would have totally understood. But no matter how different our opinions were, we always found a way to make it work because there’s trust there. I trusted that she wanted to improve and she trusted that I had her back. 

**VPB: Tell us about the French Open experience. It’s been a long time coming...**

**Manning:** To be blunt, before the tournament I’ve already accepted that the French is not in the cards for us. I mean, Cos was practically a quasi-cripple by the start of Roland Garros. But it’s funny because our last tournament had flashes of what our first tournament together was like. Every round was about building confidence, about asking ourselves what more can we give to this sport that has already taken so much, and endlessly doubting if we can even give it.

I joked that it’s the tennis equivalent of a near-death experience, but instead of your whole life flashing before your eyes, you only see the beginning. How you wish you can start all over again. How when all is said and done you can’t help but tear up about how far you’ve come. I cried happy tears that day because Cos finally got the one trophy that got away from her too many times. But I think I would have cried trophy or no trophy because we’ve come so far from being two juniors dreaming of qualifying for Slams.

**VPB: So what’s next for Sarah Manning?**

_ _

“Hey, you were eloquent! I reckon we can do a podcast,” Felix ribs Sarah as he reads his sister’s rare interview.

“They edited out the cuss words and insults. Like right here - ” Sarah points at a paragraph in the newspaper, “when they asked what blondie’s role was, they replaced ‘you toothy little git’ with those dots.”

_ “This is the pre-boarding announcement for flight BA800 to Reykjavík. Please have your boarding pass and identification ready. Regular boarding will begin in approximately ten minutes time. Thank you.” _

“Well, that’s you,” Felix smiles. “I can’t believe I’m saying this but I’m actually going to miss you, beehive hair and all.”

“I don’t know, Fe. Maybe we can be one of those people who only see their siblings twice a year during holidays,” Sarah says, trying to lighten the mood only to be wrapped around her brother’s arms.

“That’s not going to happen,” and Felix tightens his hug around his sister. “You know where to find me when this goes to the pooper, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Sarah says, her brother’s words reminding her of all the doubts about starting all over again with Cal that she still harbors.

“For what it’s worth though,” Felix whispers, “I hope it all works out for you guys this time.”

Sarah wipes the solitary tear from her eye before pulling away from Felix. “Am I doing the right thing here?” She asks.

“I don’t know, Sar,” and Felix rubs his palms on his sister’s arms. “Hop on that plane and find out... And say hi to Monkey and Cal for me.”

As Sarah walks towards the boarding gate, remnants of the past – of the time when she and Cal first broke up, flashes in her mind. How every argument seems moot now because they have a beautiful daughter to love and cherish. How she wishes they can begin again. And as she hands in her ticket, she realizes that maybe her wish – one she has tried to suppress and quash for quite some time - is coming true.

She hops on the plane to find out what’s next for her. 

\-----

**Five weeks later**

** _Dwellings: Iconic Chemin Sainte-Marie Home Now Off the Market_ **

_ The former residence and art studio of renowned painter and curator Charles Rimbaud finally gets a new owner a year after hitting the real estate market _

Like many of the exhibits mounted at Gallerie Rimbaud over the decades, there is a lot to love about the home of its famed founder and curator Charles Rimbaud (1930-2011). A hidden gem built on 5,600 square meters of land, the home is accessible through a private driveway engulfed by a superbly landscaped wooded garden. The wood-glass main house built in the 1960s is a revolutionary design idea then and now, making the property truly stand out from all the other homes beyond its tree-lined periphery.

The house’s appeal is more evident in its interiors. Stepping inside, the abundant natural light seeping through the fixed roof skylights bathes the entire open-floor home in warm, relaxing hues. The ground floor with mezzanine and open studio spaces is a beautiful balance of proportions, making it the perfect artist’s home. But as much as it is an art enclave, it is also a house begging to be lived in with its three spacious bedrooms, a sprawling eat-in kitchen, a wine cellar, and a pool in front of a loft-type unit built behind the main house to accommodate Rimbaud’s growing family.

As timeless as the house’s aesthetics are, modern updates and renovations are needed - putting off many prospective homeowners who want a move-in ready home. Its distinct character, and the fact that it’s older than the on-island suburb where it is situated, also makes it quite an intimidating purchase for a typical buyer.

“It seems to be waiting for someone special,” Sarah Stubbs, the realtor representing the buyers said when asked why the inspiring home stayed in the market for so long. “And the new owners are as special as the home’s original owner, that much I can assure you,” she added while keeping the identities of the iconic home’s new owners a secret.

Delphine is smiling the entire time the contractor and his team showed the house remodeling and renovation plans. “We’ll need a lot of time waterproofing and updating electricals without ruining the design,” the contractor says pointing to a spot in the kitchen.

“Cool,” Cosima beams, “it’s really important for us to retain the characteristics of the house but also for us to put our personal touches in it.” Her wife has been excited about their new home and the remodeling project, specifically about the plans for the mezzanine and the loft. 

Delphine always knew that deep down, Cosima wanted this house the most out of the many homes shown to them. She can still remember her wife’s words when they toured it. “Chill zone up here,” Cosima said, spreading her hands and swaying her hips in the den, “and a nice leather couch.” She never made comments like that about the other houses – even the prettiest one at Cour Gables.

After initially deciding on that house before Cosima went to play the last match of her career, Delphine began to picture the life they could have there. She came up empty, but then again she couldn’t think about anything else while her injured wife was fighting tooth and nail. So she thought about it on the night after the French Open win...and in the morning after the finals...and before dropping off Gene and Sally in the airport two days later...and while drinking with Sarah and Felix before they left for London.

Still nothing.

“That house is not for us,” Delphine admitted to Cosima on their last night in Paris. “It’s too...what’s the word...?”

“Grand? McMansion-y? Out of touch? High-brow? Elitist?”

“All of the above,” and Delphine smirked. “I think we both know where we want to live.”

In reality, it wasn’t just Cosima who was picturing a future while touring the Chemin Sainte-Marie house. As they viewed the loft, Delphine imagined how the space could easily accommodate a small recording studio. “I think you’d be awesome,” Cosima said when she told her about a friend from conservatory who had been asking her to sing and contribute to his album. “I can’t stop playing your cover of Because the Night in my head, how much more if you sing your original songs?”

“Really?” Delphine said.

“Are you kidding me? I’d listen to it endlessly. I’d wear it out...Hearing you sing through my headphones would make me feel like you’re whispering a secret,” Cosima reached to nibble her ear, “a promise.”

With their hearts set on Chemin Sainte-Marie, Delphine got in touch with their realtor to formally make an offer. As a surprise, Delphine bought a nice leather couch and had it delivered when they closed on the house. It was already in the den when she brought Cosima to their new home last week after her check-up with Dr. Hazelton, and it remains to be the only piece of furniture in it with remodelling works set to begin just in time for the start of summer.

“The entire project will be done in two months, max,” the contractor says as he rolls up the blueprints, preparing to say goodbye. And as soon as they went out the door, Delphine hungrily pulled Cosima for a breathtaking kiss.

“Someone’s eager,” her wife teases while Delphine places open-mouthed kisses on her neck.

“Five weeks is too long, ma chérie,” and she lifts Cosima’s shirt before coasting her lips over her wife’s bra-covered breasts. “I need to touch you...” She says as she grabs Cosima’s breast, who moaned before unclasping her own bra. “I want you,” and Delphine wraps her lips around a stiff nipple.

Delphine has been craving to touch Cosima, but they needed to follow doctor’s orders. “No strenuous physical activities in the next five weeks,” Hazelton said when she gave Cosima a check-up after the finals. Her hot, obnoxious wife may have been willing to go against what she calls a “medical cockblock” - even proposing for them to rejoin the mile-high club during the flight back to Montreal - but Delphine didn’t want to risk it, even if deep down she’s smoldering in desire for her wife. 

But now that they’ve gotten the all-clear, all bets are off.

In a blur, Cosima is standing naked in their empty house. “You’re wearing too much,” she whispers and Delphine proceeds to pull down her own pants and underwear while Cosima unbuttons her peach-colored blouse, impatiently pulling down the cups of her bra to smother it with kisses. “Couch,” Delphine manages to say, her tone almost pleading as she pulls Cosima closer so she can put more of her breast in her wife’s mouth.

Delphine gets playfully pushed on to the couch before getting straddled by her wife. Getting hot and heavy with Cosima now reminds Delphine of the first time they kissed – on another couch in another country – back when the realization of her feelings for the cheeky American was so new and scary; back when she pulled away because she didn’t want to be in this very position they are in now; back when she wouldn’t be able to go all-in to wherever she and Cosima were headed because she was still semi-attached to someone else.

The memories flutter away when Cosima’s core brushes her stomach, pulling Delphine back to the delicious present of how much she is wanted by the woman she loves. “Someone’s eager,” she teases back, gently running her fingers on Cosima’s wetness.

“Five weeks is too long, babe,” Cosima breathes out, moving against the fingers Delphine made room for between their bodies. “I need you to make me come,” and Delphine tried to move so she could lay her wife down on the couch. “No, no. I need it like this...Babe...Inside please,” Cosima resists and insists, her hips moving and swaying frenetically.

Delphine couldn’t say no and she slid off the couch a bit so that her legs could support Cosima better. “Lay back a little, chérie,” she instructs, and Cosima does as she’s told, resting her palms on Delphine’s knees to offer more of herself to her wife. 

Delphine’s free hand clutches on to Cosima’s lower back – both to support it and to anchor herself so she can deepen her fingers’ thrusts. Her wife’s moans echo throughout the almost-empty house, arousing Delphine even more. She feels Cosima’s walls tighten around her fingers and she stretches to desperately suck and kiss any skin her mouth can reach. Delphine curls her fingers and quickens her pace, riding out her wife’s orgasm before Cosima lunges and captures her in a heated embrace. She gives one final stroke on Cosima’s clit, making her wife shudder and quiver on her lap.

“Fuuck...” Cosima sighs, placing hungry kisses on Delphine’s face.

“Yes, I think that’s an accurate description of what just happened,” Delphine says, running the back of her fingers all over Cosima’s back.

“Now who’s cheeky,” Cosima says before capturing Delphine’s lips with hers. 

“I have to be to keep up with you,” and Delphine runs her tongue on Cosima’s chest.

“My turn,” Cosima whispers when she regains her strength, sliding down to make room for herself between Delphine’s legs. “Try to keep up, babe,” and Delphine almost came at the first touch of Cosima’s tongue on her clit. Her hands found purchase in her wife’s locks, trying to make the pleasure last longer. Delphine moves against Cosima’s mouth before her back arches in response to the skilled fingers now teasing at her soaked entrance. She was screaming in pleasure as Cosima gave as good as she had gotten with her perfect lips and strong fingers plunging in and out. Delphine’s world is spinning in ecstasy as she comes, moving her hips sideways when the sensations became too much.

“This is an awesome couch,” Cosima proclaims as she gets up to sit beside her, absently running her hands up and down on Delphine’s damp inner thigh.

“I think I may have ruined it,” and Delphine begins to squirm in her seat as she puts a hand on top of Cosima’s hand. She could kill for a cigarette right now - a cigarette always feels so good after coming so hard.

“Nah, we just christened it,” Cosima chuckles, resting her head on Delphine’s shoulders. “By the way,” and she captures Delphine’s hand to hold it tight, “the renovations in the second room? I think I could be up for it...like in a few years’ time maybe? When we’re more settled...when I’m ready.”

Delphine lets out a shy smile as she kisses the top of her wife’s head, all previous thoughts of after-sex cigarettes now out the window. The house has three bedrooms and they are updating the master’s suite and converting one bedroom into a home office. They didn’t know what to do with the “second room” although they’ve talked about it for quite some time now – way before buying the house, even before their wedding. Delphine has always tried to understand Cosima’s hesitation about having a child, assuring her that they can figure it out together eventually.

“If it’s just the two of us, would it break your heart?” Cosima asked the night before when they first received the initial blueprints and saw  _ “Possible kid’s room” _ written under Bedroom #2.

“If you’re asking me if I’m going to leave you if you don’t see kids in our future,” Delphine answered, “the answer is no. I will never leave you, Cosima,” and she kissed her wife’s palm. “Just promise me that you’d be open to the idea of discussing it down the road. And in return, I can promise you that I’d listen and consider your opinions about it.”

“For the record,” Delphine says now, putting an arm around Cosima’s shoulder, “I would still be as happy as I am with you even if it’s just the two of us.” 

“You really mean that?” Cosima says. 

“Yes. We don’t need to figure everything out right away because we have all kinds of time to plan our future. I say let’s take our sweet time, chérie,” and Delphine stands up, places her shirt on the floor to make kneeling in between her wife’s legs easier on her knees.

The bare house may need some work and a lot of furniture and appliances to boot before it’s really ready for them. But in the quiet moments that followed that afternoon, Delphine couldn’t help but feel utterly comforted by the thought that she and Cosima are finally home, ready to figure out and begin a new life together. 

\-----

**Five months later**

** _SmallVictories Raises Over Three Million Dollars in its First Charity Event_ **

SmallVictories - a foundation dedicated to reinforcing personal and social integration and development of children and youth through sports and education, raised over US$ 3,000,000 in its first ever fundraising event. Montreal’s Stade IGA was the venue for a charity match between the Foundation’s founding patron, Cosima Niehaus, and Canadian #1 and World #6 Bianca Andreescu, with the objective of raising funds to benefit the projects of the Foundation. 

Speaking to reporters before the event, Niehaus - a four-time Grand Slam winner and only the 11th woman to attain the coveted career grand slam - highlighted SmallVictories’ key initiatives.  ** _StudentxAthlete _ ** is a program that will offer opportunities to combine sports training and competition with studies for disadvantaged young athletes, providing them access to scholarships in Canadian and American universities.  ** _Beyond Tennis_ ** , is a project that will promote tennis for young people with intellectual and developmental disabilities to improve psycho-motor skills, incorporate healthy habits in their daily lives, and strengthen their integration and sense of belonging in society.

“It’s important for me to start these projects where I grew up,” Niehaus said when asked why the Foundation chose to work in poverty-stricken areas of her hometown of San Francisco. “And of course I’ve always wanted to do something meaningful for Montreal too, not only because I’ve lived here for quite some time now, but mainly because the city is so special and important to my wife.” 

The afternoon was full of surprises – one of which is a small concert by Emmy Award winning actress and SmallVictories trustee Delphine Cormier before the match started. Later on, Cosima Niehaus and Bianca Andreescu delighted all 11,000 present with a brilliant match. The real winners of the afternoon’s friendly match were the children of San Francisco and Montreal that the Foundation aims to support.

After the match ended, a Gala Dinner was held attended by numerous celebrities and well-known personalities from the world of tennis and entertainment. The project was supported by major corporate sponsors such as Fila, Longines, CBC, Wilson, and Rachel Duncan Sports Representation (RDSR), among many others.

“I must admit,” Rachel dryly says as she eyes every corner of the remodeled home, “that I like what you did with this old house.”

“Well, what can I say?” Cosima sarcastically grins before taking a sip of her tea, “seeing potential was never really your forte.”

“You seem to have forgotten,” and Rachel makes an unimpressed face as she sips her drink, “that I signed you when everybody was either calling you a lost cause or didn’t know you at all.”

“We both know that wasn’t what that was,” Cosima says. “I know all about the bet you made with Chevalier all those years ago. At least thank me for helping you win that one.”

“You two never stop,” and both Rachel and Cosima glance at Delphine who just joined them in the living room. “Why don’t you try being nice to one another for a change?” And Rachel purses her lips at that suggestion. “It won’t kill you and it’s going to be a while before you enjoy each other’s company again,” Delphine’s words make Cosima smirk. While Rachel found Delphine easy to work with during that short period of time she managed the actress’ career, handling Cosima has always been challenging. She never does as she’s told, never sticks to the script, and is almost dead set on going against all her advice.

Still, she has a few good qualities, Rachel thinks. She must admit that Cosima is telegenic and marketable, even when she wasn’t winning and even more when she began to do well in the majors. And amidst the fair share of lucrative offers that came her way from other sports agencies, Cosima remained loyal to her all these years even if they don’t have the warmest working relationship.

“Thank you,” Cosima says when Delphine leaves for the kitchen, “for last night, for the generous donation, and for helping me with the Foundation stuff.” It didn’t come as a surprise to Rachel anymore that Cosima decided to use her disposable income to start a foundation - after she strongly advised her to invest her surplus money in a Toronto-based biotech company developing regenerative gene therapies for sports injuries.

“It’s no skin off my back,” Rachel says, surprising herself with her own words. “Besides,” she pivots, “my company’s partnership with your foundation is favorable to our image as a good corporate citizen.”

“Still all about business and image,” Cosima says underneath her breath. “Why are you here so early, anyway? The housewarming isn’t for another hour.”

“I came here to say goodbye, actually.” Rachel knew that Delphine’s invitation to their housewarming party was extended out of politeness and not out of a genuine wish for her to break bread with them. She didn’t think too much of it, but in the spirit of politeness, Rachel felt the need to hastily drop off a small housewarming present: a vintage bottle of Bordeaux handpicked from her own cellar, an hour before the party. “Let me be clear that I’m still your agent, but you would be working with Martin more in most of your post-tennis endeavors.”

Cosima nods as she holds and inspects the bottle of wine in her hands. “Have a nice life then, Rachel,” and she stands up to help Delphine with the cooking, Rachel presumes. She may know the intricacies of Cosima’s financial and public profiles, but Rachel never really knew Cosima on a personal level - not that she was interested anyway. She takes Cosima’s actions as her cue to depart, but then her client comes back bearing her now uncorked housewarming gift and two glasses.

“Stay for a bit. Live on the edge, Rachel,” and Cosima pours the wine and gives her a glass. “You already have a seat at the table anyway, plus the lamb will be ready soon.”

“I’m a vegetarian,” Rachel says, hiding the smallest of smiles that formed on her face by bringing the contents of the glass closer to her lips.

“Then have the pasta,” Cosima replies, “or more wine. I’m sure you’ll manage.”

As Cosima leaves her alone in the living room to tend to their first batch of guests, Rachel couldn’t help but be surprised by her client’s gesture. She has to admit that apart from marketability and loyalty, Cosima’s best characteristic is her surprising ability to defy the odds and low expectations from a lot of people, including her. And in defying them, she never lost sight of who she is - a feat on its own, given how her other clients become more pliable to her as they get consumed by fame, glory, and fortune. Rachel could never fathom to say that out loud to another living soul, but the acknowledgment alone ought to be considered her way of playing nice. 

And as she helps herself to another glass, she begins to wonder if she would ever land another client as complicated and one of a kind as Cosima Niehaus.

  
  
\-----

**Five years later**

**International Tennis Hall of Fame (ITHF): Class of 2025**

_ Recent Player Category _

**Cosima Niehaus** , 37, of San Francisco, CA, U.S.A., was the world No. 1 player for 64 weeks. She was the year-end No.1 twice, clinching the top spot in 2017 and 2018.

A tennis prodigy who grew into an aggressive baseliner with a deadly two-handed backhand, Niehaus won four Grand Slam singles titles in a 10-year tennis career. With a game that translates well on all surfaces, Niehaus is one of only 11 women who have completed a career grand slam, accomplishing the rare feat by winning the 2020 French Open in her last professional match. In addition to her French Open, Niehaus won the Australian Open in 2018, the U.S. Open in 2015, and Wimbledon in 2014 – her first taste of grand slam glory. She has won 21 singles titles in all and compiled a competitive career record of 521 wins to 258 losses.

While smaller in stature than many of her contemporaries, Niehaus was applauded for her resiliency and tenacity on court. She was known for her impenetrable defense, court coverage, and her ability to convert defense to offense on the fly. In addition to her titles, Niehaus won the Bronze Medal in the 2016 Rio Olympics. She was a dedicated Fed Cup team member and was also a member of the Stanford Cardinal Women’s Tennis champion team before turning professional in 2010.

Off court, she has been a staunch advocate of LGBTQ+ rights and youth development through education and sports with the work of her foundation, SmallVictories, which has reached approximately 4,300 children and youth since its inception in 2020. Niehaus currently resides in Montreal with her wife, Delphine Cormier - a César and Emmy Award Winner and Tony and Academy Award nominated actress.

Apart from SmallVictories, Niehaus’ ventures since retirement include a strategic investment and partnership with FinishLine Sports Medicine – a company founded by her long-time trainer, Felix Dawkins, and running a tennis academy with Siobhan Sadler and Sarah Manning, her long-time coach. 

It was all about the journey, not the destination for Cosima this week. Sure she was honored and looked forward to the Hall of Fame Enshrinement Weekend, but she was more excited with the road trip that she planned with Sarah, Felix, and Delphine. Everything was going according to plan: her parents chose to fly to Rhode Island; and Sarah and Felix would arrive in Montreal to spend a night at the loft before the 6-hour drive to Newport.

But then Delphine’s phone rang while they were having breakfast. Her wife’s adorable puppy-dog eyes were more than enough for Cosima to know that the best part of the road trip for her won’t be able to come.

“I need to go to New York today, mon amour,” Delphine said, holding on to her hand to try to appease her. “Apparently there were some problems with the dialogue I recorded for the documentary.” As a favor to Océane, Delphine narrated her friend’s first feature documentary about the 1989 École Polytechnique massacre. Cosima had always found the project gripping, but with it taking Delphine away this weekend, she couldn’t help but be annoyed by it.

“Couldn’t you do that in the studio?” Cosima bargained. “If you can record an entire album there, I’m sure a page of dialogue would be easy.”

“Yes,” and Delphine bit her lower lip, “but Océane is re-writing important chunks of the script right now. I’m sorry, chérie. But the good news is it’ll be over by tomorrow and I would make it in time for your ceremony on Sunday.”

“Fine,” Cosima said, resigned to her fate, “you owe me, Cormier. And know that I will collect soon.”

With Delphine in New York, Cosima mostly sulked during the drive to Newport. “You know,” Felix said, turning to look at her from the passenger seat, “you still make the same face you made years ago when blondie’s not within kissing distance.”

“I have a face for that?” And Cosima checked her phone for the hundredth time, waiting for Delphine’s call.

“Yeah,” and Sarah grinned behind the wheel, “a pining face.”

“Hey, I’m anti-pine,” and just then her phone rang, displaying Delphine’s face. “Hi babycakes,” she said, not caring if Felix and Sarah could hear.

“Babycakes,” Felix snickered, “apparently that’s still a thing.”

“So how’s blondie, babycakes?” Sarah said when the call ended.

“She’ll still make it,” and Cosima sighed and pouted, “but she’ll meet us in the ceremony instead because she’s coming straight from New York.”

“Well, the important thing is she would be there,” Felix said and Cosima shrugged her shoulders. “Hey, no pouting, she always makes it – even with the busy schedule and crazy call times.”

While Cosima thinks that Felix is right, she also knows that there is a first time for everything. She’s been trying to call Delphine for an hour, but she isn’t answering, which only heightens Cosima’s paranoia. And with minutes before the ceremony starts, Cosima couldn’t help but think that this may be the first time that Delphine misses something important, that Delphine lets her down.

“Our 2025 Recent Player Inductee holds four grand slams titles, an Olympic Bronze Medal, and a career grand slam,” a member of the Tennis Hall of Fame Executive Board says to kick things off. “She’s a champion not only on court, but also off court by trying to make this world a better place through her tireless work in her foundation. Today we honor Cosima Niehaus,” and Cosima tries to fake a smile even if she’s deflated deep down.

“To introduce our inductee,” and Cosima looks at Sarah who’s seated up front. It was a no-brainer for her to pick Sarah when she was asked by the ITHF who she would elect to introduce her. She was surprised when she immediately agreed. “We’re very pleased to have with us a woman who knows all of Cosima, Delphine Cormier.”

As Cosima’s jaw drops, she sees Sarah and Felix guffawing in their seats while her mom asks them what’s happening. And as she watches Delphine walk to the podium from backstage, it’s suddenly Wimbledon 2014 all over again – the joy and relief of seeing her on the stands that day rival her feelings when she lifted that trophy. While she knew she loved Delphine early in their relationship, that day was the first day when she knew that she’s the woman she wants to spend the rest of her life with; that she would work hard for that to be her daily reality.

“Hello,” and Delphine smiles shyly. “In the spirit of celebrating Cosima Niehaus, her entire team thought of this little surprise – for me to introduce her to all of you without her knowing.” The crowd laughs and Cosima, relieved and happy that her wife is here, laughs along with them. “All week, I tried to write a speech that perfectly captures Cosima. But I realized that words have yet to be invented that are large enough, colorful enough, or true enough to express the heart and soul of this woman that I love.”

Cosima gushes, realizing that this is the first time that Delphine is publicly speaking extensively about her. They avoid discussing their personal lives during interviews - both of them convinced that the less the public knows the better. But with Delphine now front and center introducing her to the Tennis Hall of Fame, Cosima can’t help but wonder what her wife would say.

“Cosima,” and she looks up to the stage, “I wonder what I can possibly say to do justice to the way you’ve lived your life, to the lives that you’ve changed, and to the many things you mean to me. I thought of getting words from our little ritual when we’re far away from each other: sharing the small victories of our day. And as I read through messages and emails of our small victories, I realize that the messages – be it short or long, specific or lacking in specifics, from 10 years ago or from 10 hours ago - are always from the overflow of my eternally grateful heart.”

“ _ Wow, _ ” Cosima thinks. She loves that ritual - so much so that when they began to spend more time together at home, she put up a small chalkboard on the kitchen wall where she can write her small victory of the day. She loves coming from the tennis academy or from the foundation’s office to read Delphine’s small victory of the day right next to hers.

“The letters and messages, and our life together have helped me understand you just a little bit better,” Delphine says. “How you don’t need applause or trophies to be at your best, only needing to give the best your soul could give to feel complete. From the roar of voices inside a packed Centre Court, to the sounds of happy children picking up tennis because of you, to the quietness of our room on a lazy Sunday afternoon, your generous soul, unbending strength, and your soft-spoken integrity has never wavered. And as I stand here to honor your career, I realize now that the arena of tennis has simply given you a platform to refine those inner qualities you’ve always possessed.”

By this time, Cosima is just thankful that she wore waterproof mascara. “The history books will record for posterity your ability to rise above crushing defeats, to play through injuries, and to win again and again. And in the future, people who read them will be tempted to think that they know all of you. But for those of us blessed to be on the receiving end of your generous heart, we have etched in us something no tennis statistic could describe. You have made us better and we will never be the same.”

Cosima takes a tissue handed to her by her seatmate and dabs it around her eyes. She finds comfort in the fact that Delphine is fighting tears too as she regains composure to speak again. “Cosima, you have spent many years competing and trying to prove your worth. But right now, in my eyes and in my heart that loves all of you, you have no rival. Ladies and gentlemen, I introduce to you the greatest person I’ve ever known, Cosima Niehaus.”

She stands up with shaky legs, her wife’s words making her swoon. When Cosima gets to the stage, Delphine hurriedly leaves the podium to run towards her. “Our little ruse worked,” she whispers before giving her a lingering kiss on the cheek near her ear.

“I’ll have you know that I plan to collect,” Cosima says, “I love you.”

“I love you too. Speech first, collect later.”

“Thank you, Delphine for the awesome surprise, I love you,” and when the applause dies down, Cosima begins her speech. “If we’re lucky in life, we get a handful of moments when we don’t have to wonder if we made the people we love proud of us. We don’t have to ask because we just know, and I want to thank tennis for giving me one of those moments today.”

Cosima looks to her parents – at her mom’s teary eyes and her dad’s beaming smile. Beside them, Sarah and Felix nod. “It’s one of the many things in which I have to thank this sport. I look at the kids in SmallVictories and I find myself saying underneath my breath, ‘thank you, tennis.’ I look at my wife who I live for and I say ‘thank you, tennis.’ I look to the future, to my efforts of expanding SmallVictories to inner cities across the U.S. so we can help more young people, and I give thanks to tennis for making that possible.” Her voice breaks and she thinks how much harder this speech is compared to playing a grand slam final. But with Delphine mouthing words of encouragement, she pushes on.

“Tennis gave me all my personal teachers that I owe a debt I can never repay,” and Cosima looks at Sarah and Felix. “They allowed me to stand on their shoulders to reach for my dreams. And when I couldn’t stand on my own two feet – be it because of injuries or because it was just so damn hard sometimes, they lifted me up and carried me to many finish lines. My dad and mom who drove me everywhere to practice and play; Sarah and Felix - my friends, protectors, my coach and trainer...And the person who means more to me than words can express - the woman who still takes my breath away everyday, Delphine. They are the reasons why this day happened.”

In the midst of applause, Cosima begins to think how great her life is, how there’s only one addition that would make an already great life impossibly greater. And as her mind and heart fully lean towards it, her queasiness about public speaking becomes but a mild issue. She can’t wait to get this speech over and done with so she can talk to Delphine.

“There have been times when I had doubts about my feelings for tennis, doubts that made me walk away from the sport. But I feel so humbled standing here now knowing that the reason that I have everything I hold dear in my life is because of how tennis and all of you have accepted me and loved me, even when I seem to hate. In closing, I’d like to thank the International Hall of Fame for giving me the honor to be part of the history of the game. Thank you, tennis, for my life. Thank you, tennis, for my wife. And thank you, tennis, for enabling me to find my life’s work... ”

“So how do you plan to punish me for my trickery?” Delphine teases when she sits beside her when the next inductee takes the stage.

“By surprising you with something unexpected,” Cosima says, which captures Delphine’s curiosity. “So, you still want to have kids with me?”

It was Delphine’s turn to collect her jaw from the ground. “Are you serious, mon amour?” And Delphine curls a lock around her fingers, still getting used to Cosima’s shorter curly hair that makes her beautiful and cute all at the same time.

“Oui,” she says after capturing Delphine’s lips with a kiss, before resting her head on her shoulder.

As Delphine places a soft kiss on her head, Cosima couldn’t help but look up to the sky, eternally grateful to fate, destiny, and the tennis gods for allowing her to embrace the future with open arms, whatever that might be.

“Thank you, tennis.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As this story ends, I wish to thank from the bottom of my heart everybody who has given this story a chance, who left kudos, and who shared their ideas and thoughts in the comments section. I am feeling overwhelmed that this story has come to an end, but as one story ends perhaps another one begins. It may be months before another story comes from me and I hope that you would all still be there whenever that new story and journey starts. Thank you very much. Je vous aime tous.
> 
> A space big enough has not yet been invented for me to convey my thanks to my buddy Corsan who has tirelessly read and commented on most of this work when it was incomplete and just essentially senseless rambles. Her words have guided me to where this story led and for that and the friendship she has extended to me, I am eternally grateful.
> 
> For the last time in this story, let me know what worked and didn't work for you. Stay well always! :)


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